


Electric Boogaloo

by bazaar



Category: Avatar: Legend of Korra
Genre: F/F, Tumblr Prompts, tags/ratings vary
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-08-07
Updated: 2018-01-01
Packaged: 2018-12-12 06:16:32
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 22
Words: 30,803
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11731200
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bazaar/pseuds/bazaar
Summary: An ongoing collection of prompts and requests and other ideas.





	1. Boog It (G)

**Author's Note:**

> It's called what it's called because golari told me to (and because I've been thinking about Electric Boogaloo all day.)
> 
> First prompt was from Perpetual159: _"Korra quietly discovers Asami while Asami’s cooking dinner and dancing, singing and using the spatula as a microphone, all unbeknownst to Asami. Korra stays quiet and, with the goofiest smile on her face, watches the smartest, richest woman in Republic City being a giant dork!"_

Korra was not a fan of waking up alone.

A list of things Korra _was_ a fan of included but was not limited to: blue ink pens, cherry berry lemonade, polar bear dogs, and Asami Sato. None— _none_ of which were with her in bed. Instead, she was afforded the luxury of rolling over to blindly search for her girlfriend, and finding the hardwood floor.

“ _Ow._ ”

Peeling her face off of the floor and shoving tangled blankets off of her legs—also not on the list.

Sentient enough to stagger around, but not enough to detect the doorjamb at high speed, Korra added another item to the list of things she wasn’t—no, the list of things she _fucking hated_. And the list was growing exponentially because she stubbed her toe on the hallway table, lost her toothbrush in the toilet, and singed the corner of Asami’s monogrammed towel in the frustration begat from the death of said toothbrush.

She was awake by the time she made it down the stairs (thank the spirits, because tumbling down two flights of stairs kind of seemed like an inevitability with the way things had gone already) but her next task was to find the missing girlfriend who’d only been the beginning of her bad luck. Quiet music wafted into the foyer, and Korra trudged toward it, ready to complain.

“This is a terrible song,” she grumbled. And it really wasn’t, it was a good song, one Korra liked a lot, but she had to flex that complaining muscle before she reached the source because she’d only been up for like twenty minutes and she’d already had—

“… _she was a red hot hoochie-coocher!_ ”

So. The day had been garbage, right? Irredeemable, really. But standing—no, _shaking her ass_ in the kitchen was the only thing that could remedy the day.

“ _Hee-dee-hee-dee-hee-dee-hee!_ ”

Korra wanted to laugh. She wanted to cry. She wanted to watch the scene unfolding before her for _ever_. In that moment, as Asami popped her hips to the left and then to the right to the music, singing into the wooden spatula covered in egg, Korra could only think, ‘ _Well why don’t I just marry her right now?_ ’

And the best part was—Asami hadn’t noticed her yet. She could stand and watch her multi-millionaire, business mogul girlfriend swing her hips like an _idiot_ and bang on the counter with the back of the spatula for as long as she wanted. Only when Asami banged the spatula on the counter, a fleck of egg hit her in the face, and Korra almost lost it at the little ‘ _Oh!_ ’ of surprise as she wiped it off and threw it in the sink before returning to her dancing.

_“Skip-de-diddly-skip-de-diddly-diddly-oh!_ ” At the last word of her scatting, Asami spun around and—“ _FUCK—Korra!_ Spirits, you _scared_ me!”

_That_ made Korra lose it. It started with a snort, but as a vivid blush rose from Asami’s neck to her cheeks to her ears, Korra slid down the doorframe, unable and unwilling to try to catch her breath.

“How… how long were you standing—Korra, stop laughing!”

“I-I— _pffbt—_ I _can’t!_ ”

Asami crossed her arms over her chest, frowning, face completely red. “I didn’t know you were there!”

“ _Hah_ — _“_ Korra tried, “I know!” Korra’s stomach ached, but even after her laughter had died away, she stayed put on the floor, clutching at her ribs and looking up at her girlfriend though watery eyes.

It took a moment to register, but Asami hadn’t said anything, and was looking away, arms still crossed tightly over her chest.

“Hey,” Korra began, pushing herself onto her feet and going to Asami, who kept her eyes averted. “Look at me.”

She obliged, albeit slowly. Her face was still red, and Korra had never in the five years that she’d known her had she seen Asami Sato _this_ embarrassed. Always the epitome of grace and perfection, this side of her was new. Korra had always been the one to make a fool of herself, and it was so _so_ vindicating to know that the same thing could actually happen to Asami.

She took her heated face in her hands, leaning in to press their lips together. When she pulled back, Asami’s face was a little less red. “You are the cutest thing I have ever seen in my whole life.”

“In your whole life, huh?” Asami said, the embarrassment giving way to a smirk. “Cuter than Naga as a puppy?”

Korra sucked in a breath through her teeth, wrapping her arms around Asami’s waist and grinning when long arms settled over her shoulders. “I’m gonna have to go apologize to her. You have officially upset the champion of cute.”

Her face was still tinged with pink, but Asami conceded, leaning in for what Korra had thought was going to be a quick kiss, and much to her surprise (delight) turned out to last much longer than she’d anticipated.

When they pulled away, Korra knew she had a dopey look on her face with the way that Asami was looking at her, but Korra didn’t have a moment to enjoy the mushiness because Asami shoved her back, hopping into a wide stance and throwing her arms in the air before singing at the top of her lungs:

“ _You gotta ho-di-ho!”_

Bewildered as Asami started moving her hips and grooving to the new song, Korra blinked.

_Yeah. I’ll probably just marry her now._


	2. No Doubts (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This prompt is very old but very poignant as of late.

It hadn't involved much thought.

The very idea of which was so out in left-field for Asami that when she'd stood before the mirror afterwards, she'd needed to sit down for a moment to collect herself. Even when she'd risen from her seat, making her way down the open corridors of Air Temple Island, she'd walked in a trance, still unsure of exactly what she'd done.

It wasn't until she'd arrived at Korra's room that she'd snapped back to herself. Korra's presence was pleasantly jarring in that way, always pulling her back to the present, back to her. Only recently had that pleasance slipped away into something darker, something that loomed like a raincloud above them both.

It loomed because when they spoke of the Avatar, reverent and awestruck, they never spoke of this.

Korra gave a weak laugh when she noticed Asami in the doorway. "What did you _do_?"

Asami shrugged, offering a sheepish smile. She sat down at the (her) chair beside Korra's bed, taking one of the other woman's hands in her own. Korra squeezed, but there wasn't any kind of force behind it.

"It was a little impulsive, that I'll give you."

"A _little_?"

"Okay, a lot. But you've done _so_ much worse, so don't give me that."

The Avatar grinned, a wonderful sight even with sunken cheeks and dark bags beneath blue eyes. Even with months of failed attempts by the healers, of tears, of trying to fill the yawning pit in her chest with as much time as they had together, not one day had passed that Asami hadn't marveled at her beauty, her strength.

She let go of Korra's hand, only to grasp her other as she leaned over the bed, resting her head in Korra's lap. Korra adjusted herself, sitting up so they could look at each other comfortably. When she settled, Asami smiled, hoping it was a worthy response, but knowing that she didn't have much else to offer.

"You didn't have to do all this, Asami."

She felt the fingers of Korra's free hand as they trailed the length of her jaw, then. Shaky and feeble, fumbling over her cheekbone, her temple, before they reached her hairline, or rather, lack thereof. She tried to give herself the luxury of imagining Korra's fingers tangling in her hair, but when Korra pressed her once warm palm to the bald base of Asami's skull, she remembered again why she'd done it.

Korra's hand stilled there, and Asami captured her wrist, sliding the pad of her thumb gently over paling skin.

"I did, Korra." she said then, lost in the eyes that had suffered and continued to suffer so deeply, but in all that time, never lost their soul.

"I really did."


	3. The Charm (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From swashbuckling-pen: _"A twist on the soulmate thing, that you will have three missed encounters with your soulmate until you are really ready for a long-term relationship."_

There weren’t too many things that made Asami nervous.

She was fine with heights and the open ocean, with confined spaces and bugs, and a bunch of other common phobias that maybe should have bothered her, but didn’t.

Searching the classifieds for a date? Scary. Meeting up with said date? _Horrifying_.

…the restaurant was out of alcohol? _Fucking what._

How was a restaurant _out of alcohol?_ What, a passing horde of drunkards robbed them at gunpoint?

Asami sighed, feeling a crippling disappointment with her decision making skills. She’d never been to the little hole in the wall, and she was _way_ overdressed. Her date had explained over the phone that it was a nice place, but Asami had a _very_ different definition of nice, apparently, because she kept having to shift around the giant rip in the booth bench so her ass didn’t fall into the crevice.

She’d found a table where she could see the door, on the lookout for her date, but for a solid ten minutes, the only new patrons were an elderly couple. And Asami was getting impatient. Yes, she had arrived like thirty minutes before they’d scheduled, but punctuality was important to her. And she could just lie to her date about how long she’d been sitting in the sticky booth. No need to let her freak flag fly on a first date.

The bell above the front door jingled, and it seemed like the dinner crowd was arriving, because several people crowded the doorway at once. Two men and a woman who looked like a party, as well as an older couple and what Asami could assume was their daughter, and—

“Over here,” she mouthed, noticing her date from the picture and waving.

“You must be Asami! Goodness, your picture did _not_ do you justice.”

Unsure whether to be flattered or a little insulted, she settled for a tight smile and a handshake.

“I’ve never been very photogenic,” she lied, sitting back down and narrowly missing the giant rip, _again_. “You must be Iroh.”

 

* * *

 

The date had gone well enough. Not well enough to warrant a second, but Asami had enjoyed herself, and Iroh had opened the door for her as they’d left.

When they stepped out into the cool night air, making their way across the street, however, Asami felt a pain in her chest. Deep, reverberating, like someone had shoved their hand between her ribs and grabbed her heart tight. It was gone as soon as it had appeared, but it left her a little breathless.

“Are you okay?” Iroh asked, reaching out to her but stopping short of her arm.

“Yes, um,” She looked back across the street, watching as the restaurant’s lights dimmed, readying for closing. “…I’m fine.”

Iroh didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t press the matter either. “Would you like me to walk you home?”

Asami smiled at him. He was nice enough, had a stable job with the military, and was attractive to boot, but that was all there was.

“I appreciate it, but I don’t live far,” she said, extending her hand. “I’ll be all right. It was lovely to meet you, Iroh.”

He got the hint, but smiled all the same. “You as well, Asami,” He took her hand in a firm shake. “Have a wonderful night.”

They parted ways, and Asami went home. When she slipped into bed that night, she remembered the feeling in her chest.

_Best not to dwell on it. It won’t happen again._

 

* * *

 

It did happen again.

She was at the park, finishing a yoga class she’d been forced to take time off of work for—thanks to none other than the ever-irritating Opal Beifong.

“That wasn’t all bad, yeah?” Opal tried, rolling up her mat and tucking it under her arm. “Pretty relaxing. And the teacher, Kya, is Master Tenzin’s sister! I’m getting a _discount_.”

“And I’m not?”

“ _Pshh,_ you’re rich.”

Asami rolled her eyes. Opal wasn’t lacking in finances either, but ever since she’d begun her Air Nomad meditation training, she’d _said_ that she’d given up her “earthly attachments.” Asami knew that was a lie, Opal had a _lot_ of jewelry. Some of which she was wearing.

“I won’t say I didn’t enjoy it, but can I get back to the office, please? Or have you signed us up for some other, three hour long class?”

“No, that’s _next_ Tuesday,” Opal explained, “Calisthenics.”

“I have a board meeting next Tuesday. You’re going to have to tell me about these things in _advance_ if you—“ There it was again. Stopping Asami in the middle of her thought, like a deep, prodding in her chest. A plea for attention. Asami grabbed at her chest.

“Asami?” Opal grabbed her wrists, but the pain was gone again, quick as it had come. “What—oh _shit.”_

Asami frowned at her friend. “What?”

Opal looked like she’d won the lottery. “Oh _shit._ That’s soulmate pain. Oh, spirits!” She released her hold on Asami’s wrists, looking around the park. “They’re _here!_ How many times have you felt that?”

“Come on, Opal, you know that’s all superstition.”

“Uh!” Opal began, jutting her head forward pointedly, like some kind of bird. “No it’s not! I felt it three times, and the third time I ran _right_ into Bolin. It’s not a coincidence either, I asked him if he’d felt it and guess what? He had. In all the same places I’d been.” She leaned in, pointing right between Asami’s eyes. “Your soulmate is—or _was_ in this. Very. Park.”

Everyone had heard stories of the whole soulmate deal, but she’d never been much for the supernatural. Besides, even if it _was_ true, there were dozens of people in the park and the surrounding streets. There was no way it would be practical, even if it _was_ real.

“Now, I’ve never _met_ Bolin, but you tell me he’s an actor,” Asami began at length as they left the park, Opal eyeing every stranger with suspicion. “You think maybe he’s just a _little_ dramatic? Like, I don’t know— _you?_ ”

“Try to explain it away however you want, but tell me this first: have you felt it before?”

“Yes,” Asami conceded, sighing, “Once, like a week ago.”

And she really wanted to smack the smug grin right off of Opal’s face, but the girl had already gotten in her own car with the window rolled down.

“By all means, logic away, Sato,” Opal sang, starting her car. “But the third time’s the charm.”

She remembered the pain as Opal flicked her off and drove away.

 

* * *

 

 

The third time _was_ the charm.

It didn’t feel like it would be. The water heater for the _entire_ floor of her apartment had burst.

So there she stood, in the only clean tank top she owned and a pair of sweatpants she’d found under her bed, watching as every single article of clothing she owned swirled around in five laundromat washers.

Being a workaholic had its perks, sure. But not having enough time for laundry wasn’t one of them.

She hopped up on a dryer, mourning the loss of her evening. She’d planned to go out with Opal and Bolin so she could finally meet the guy face to face, but one look in a barren closet had put the kibosh on those plans. And for once, Asami had _wanted_ to go out, even if she would have been the third wheel.

She’d been a third wheel for a long time. Sometimes a fifth. Maybe even a seventh.

The choice of music in the laundromat was… interesting, to say the least. Yai Province throat singing. And something smelled like spider-moth balls. It was probably spider-moth balls.

“‘Scuse me, do you have a yuan?”

Asami turned towards the voice, blinking for a moment before answering. “I think so, let me look…” She dug around in the pockets of her sweatpants, producing one single coin, that she handed to the woman who’d asked. “You’re in luck—it’s my last one.”

“Do you need it? I mean, I can come back later. I just need to get the fur out of these blankets, but they can wait,” She held up what Asami assumed had _been_ a black blanket, but it was _covered_ in white fur. “You have any demons—I mean, pets?”

Asami couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I can’t say I do. My cars are my pets, I guess.”

“Car _s_ , like, plural?” The woman took Asami’s yuan with a grateful smile, then, throwing her blanket in the last available washer and starting it.

“Yep. Bikes, too. All kinds of heavy machinery.”

The woman whistled, clearly impressed. “What are you, a mechanic?”

“You could call me that, sure.”

“That’s a pretty mysterious answer, Miss Mechanic.”

For a moment, Asami regarded the woman, leant against the dryer beside her. “I guess it is,” she said, a smirk tugging her lips. “Here’s one that’s a little more transparent: I’m an engineer.”

“Now, to my untrained ears, that sounds like the exact same thing,” She hopped up on a dryer, turning so she could face Asami, and propped her head against her knuckles. “What’s the difference?”

“Well, you can be an engineer of a lot of different things, but a mechanic works with, you know, _mechanisms_. Theoretical versus practical, but I guess I do both. What do _you_ do?”

The woman hummed thoughtfully. “Keep the peace.”

“That’s a pretty mysterious answer, Miss Peacekeeper.”

The woman grinned, blue eyes sparkling. “I guess it is.”

 

* * *

 

When the dryer had stopped, Asami was so engrossed in conversation that she was startled to see the woman look away.

They’d held eye contact for so long, so deep in a dialogue Asami had never quite had the luxury of experiencing that she was surprised to find the lack of speech so jarring.

“I guess that’s me,” the woman said after a beat, tearing herself away with what seemed like a lot of difficulty. She pulled her blanket from the dryer. “Hey, it’s… it’s been really nice talking to you.”

“Oh, you too,” Asami said, completely unable to keep the disappointment out of her voice.

It seemed like the trance had been broken, because suddenly the other woman’s demeanor had shifted. She looked unsure of herself, looking between Asami and her blankets.

“I, uh. I guess I’ll head out. Don’t want to bother you anymore.”

“You’re not! I mean, if you have to go, I don’t want to keep you. It’s up to you.”

She seemed to consider her options for a moment, before taking a step back. “I’m being annoying, look, I’m gonna…”

Before Asami could stop her, or even comment on the radical (and really confusing) shift, the woman had bolted through the door, leaving Asami bereft. “I didn’t even get your name…” she mumbled to the empty laundromat.

Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, and still the Yai Province throat singing rang through a beat-up radio, and the noise was awful—it was _painful_.

…no. No, the pain blossoming out from her chest wasn’t from the shitty music.

She doubled over in an instant, clutching at her chest. This time, the pain pressed against every nerve in her body, leaving her breathless and completely immobile. It was as if someone had set off and explosion between her ribs.

The door to the laundromat slammed open, but Asami was so overwhelmed by the blinding pain that she almost didn’t notice.

“ _You!_ ”

She managed to look up, but the moment she’d locked eyes with the woman at the door, wrapped up in the blanket she’d left with, hair a windswept mess—all of the pain vanished, and she was left staring into bright blue eyes.

Her _soulmate._

“Huh,” was all she could articulate, and the noise came out in a huff, more wonder than anything else.

“Were you at Narook’s two weeks ago?” the woman asked, her question like gunfire.

Asami nodded slowly. “…and the park last week?”

The woman nodded.

For a _long_ moment, they just stood, staring at each other in the laundromat, jaws slack.

Asami’s mind was reeling. She’d never imagined that the stupid superstition could _actually_ be true, but looking at the woman she’d known for only a few hours, she was terrified to find that there was not one doubt in her mind. This woman was _the one._

She entered the laundromat and drew the blanket around her shoulders, something Asami found to be exceedingly adorable. Her blue eyes were apologetic when she spoke again, “I’m so sorry, you’re like—you’re _gorgeous_ and I… panicked.”

“You’re not so bad yourself,” Asami chuckled, “and I panicked, too,” She gestured to herself, “on the inside.” She sighed with deep, _deep_ relief before continuing, “I’m Asami.”

The woman smiled, and it felt like the start of something wonderful.

“Korra.”


	4. Shorts (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Three very short, very old ones.
> 
> From anons: _"KORRASAMI ACCORDION DUET AU"_ and _"Pairing: korrasami, AU: astronomers"_
> 
> From metalwarrior22: _"Korrasami, fantasy world full of dragons AU"_

“ _When the moon hits your eye like a big pizza pie, that’s amooooreeee!”_

As endearing as the sight of watching Korra wail Dean Martin and smash the keys on her new (used) accordion, it also sounds like, well, Korra wailing Dean Martin and smashing keys on an accordion.

Asami’s not doing any better on her own accordion, though, and as much fun as she’s having making shitty music with her girlfriend, the neighbors aren’t nearly as pleased, which explains the policemen at their door about a noise complaint.

 

* * *

 

And while Korra knows that Asami combs through the stars in her free time, designing the kinds of things that can see into the far reaches of the observable universe—Korra _also_ knows how much Asami likes cheesy gifts.

So she hands her a certificate with her name on it, right next to a picture of the blue dwarf now officially known as “Satobot 3371-O,” and tells her that she’d picked the thing because they’re the brightest stars in the universe, and they need a name to match.

It’s a silly present, but the next time Korra stops by while Asami’s at work, she sees it proudly displayed next to her PhD in Astrophysics—and when she asks about it, Asami smiles brighter than her star.

 

* * *

 

“I thought you said you’d done this before!”

Another burst of fire shot through the corridor behind them, followed by an earth-shaking roar that almost made Korra lose her grip on her sack of gold as she struggled to keep up with Asami, sprinting in full battle armor—what the _fuck_ , Asami—a good foot ahead of her.

The roar sounds closer then, and it’s all the motivation Korra never wanted to know she needed, “I lied—just keep running!”


	5. Leg Work (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From omglooknoone: _"Korra is a security guard doing her nightly patrol of the Sato headquarters and while she’s been catching fleeting glimpses of Asami, she has no idea Asami knows the exact times she passes by each night."_

Flowery perfume.

Korra could never put her finger on what _kind_ of flower, but in the wee hours of the morning, she could always smell it.

She liked it. It made her think of summer nights.

She liked where it came from, too.

She’d never been able to figure out why Asami Sato came to her office before the sun came up. Maybe she’d never even left the night before. Korra would see her occasionally, padding through the dim, empty hallways in her socks.

Maybe she _never_ left.

Before she’d see the other woman’s figure, she’d smell that perfume. It was indicative of long black hair and often a huff of what sounded like impatience. Sometimes, she would pace the corridors, and from one of Korra’s stations, she could hear little mumbles of frustration and flipping pages. Once, she’d heard a crack, and when she’d gone to investigate, the woman was gone, but a broken pencil had been left on the floor in her wake.

Sometimes, Korra wondered if her boss was crazy. Or a genius. A crazy genius, probably.

At all of her previous jobs, she’d enjoyed the graveyard shift. It had left her with time to herself—something she rarely had during the day. But not at Future Industries Tower. She was never alone in the middle of the night. But she also never had company, really.

As the night wore on, she kept patrolling, stopping at the desk by the elevator to grab a piece of candy. She had a friend who worked reception, and he always left candy out for her. This time, it was butterscotch.

“What is it tonight?”

Her heart leapt right into her throat, and she almost choked on the candy, whirling around to shine her flashlight at the voice.

“ _Jesus,_ ” she huffed, chuckling at her own jumpiness before offering a sheepish grin. “Sorry, Ms. Sato, you scared me.”

“Asami, please,” she said, and gave Korra a wry little smile. “Too focused on your candy theft, hm?”

“Oh, I… I’m not—“

“I’m kidding,” she laughed, holding up a placating hand. “I know Bolin leaves you goodies. He made me muffins last week.”

“His blueberry ones?” Asami nodded, smiling. “Oh, those are the _best_. He always gets _just_ the right consistency.”

“I’m not sure why he wants to work here. He’d be a wonderful pastry chef.”

“I don’t see why anyone _wouldn’t_ want to work here,” Korra said genuinely, and her boss raised a questioning brow. “I’m sorry if this sounds like I’m trying to kiss up, but I’m going to be honest—no one does benefits like Future Industries.”

This earned her a smile. “A business should take care of its employees,” she said, simply. Then, her eyes roamed over Korra, and before she could feel too scrutinized, Asami angled her head towards her office. “Come on, I’ll make you a cup of tea.”

 

* * *

 

A cup of tea became routine.

In the following weeks, Korra would pass by Bolin’s desk for her candy of the night, and meet Asami by the elevator. It was never something they’d planned out, but the other woman was always there when Korra went for her candy, always with a smile and an offer for tea.

Korra had asked once, how Asami had known exactly when she came by the reception desk.

“I’ve been watching you,” she’d said, simply. When Korra had opened and closed her mouth like a fish, Asami had laughed, holding up a booklet. “I have the security guard schedules.”

“Oh,” Korra had replied, like an idiot.

The thing was, sometimes Korra wondered if she _had_ been watching her while on patrol. Because she certainly watched her when they retired to the CEO’s office for their nightly tea.

Korra didn’t mind. How could she when the most successful woman in the world wanted to hang around her? She had to remind herself several times a night that she was speaking to her boss, though, because when she spoke with Asami, she felt as if they’d known each other for years. There was something in the tender way she smiled, in the open expressions she wore when Korra told stories. She was a wonderful listener, and a wonderful companion through the boring nights.

And Korra had a crush. It was showing.

One night (one early morning, rather) Asami had found Korra at her post instead of their rendezvous at the reception desk.

Since they’d become more comfortable around each other, and Korra had found out that _no_ , Asami really _didn’t_ leave the Tower most nights—she had also noticed that Asami would often allow herself a little leeway in her appearance. She’d meet Korra in less than her best, occasionally a tank top and a mechanic’s jumpsuit tied around her waist. That night was no exception.

“Hey there,” Asami said, and it was just a greeting, but Korra felt her heart rate spike at the other woman’s voice. _God, get it together, idiot._ “Almost on break?”

When Korra attempted to speak, she found that her mouth was dry, and her comment tumbled out between her lips with about as much grace as Bolin after eight or nine drinks. “You… I mean, you know when I’m on break,” _Fuck, what are you doing?_ “I’ve got another five minutes.”

“As your superior, I’m going to give you a little wiggle room,” Asami said with a smile, apparently not fazed by Korra’s inability to form sentences. “Come on, I want to show you something.”

Because Korra couldn’t have said no if she’d _wanted_ to, she followed Asami down the western corridor, trying not to stare at her boss’s bare midriff between her jumpsuit and cut off tank. She noticed that there was what looked like a little blotchy scar right under the hem of the cut off, and a few grease stains on her bare arms—Korra was not doing very well at not staring.

They reached the end of the hallway, and Korra was confused for all of a moment because it was a dead end, but then Asami pressed her hand against what looked like an electrical panel and the wall slid open.

“What the fuck,” Korra said before she could stop herself. “Uh, sorry.”

Asami just smirked at her. “It’s in here.”

They entered the hidden room, Asami sliding the wall closed behind them. Lights were already on, and Korra was astounded by what she was looking at.

It was a small, secret garage. All the way up on the top floor. There were half-finished trinkets lining large wooden workbenches, but in the middle was a sleek black motorcycle, the likes Korra had never seen before.

“ _Wow,_ ” she breathed, eyes roaming the room. “ _This_ is why you’re here all the time.”

Asami nodded. “My pride and joy. The X-Line Satobike. You’re the first to see it.”

“I’m honored,” Korra said, unsure of her next words, “but why me?”

For once, Asami looked bashful. “Well… you know I never really leave this place,” She caught Korra’s eye, and Korra could have sworn that her cheeks were tinged with pink. “So my social life is relegated to a total of… not many people.”

Korra watched her, curious. She leant against one of the workbenches then, fidgeting with the tied sleeves of her jumpsuit at her waist. “So, I guess this is my version of a thank you for… for just talking to me. Like a person, not like your boss or this unapproachable… I don’t know— _figure_.”

Her hands were sweaty. And looking at the most powerful woman in Republic City, blushing, nervous, reminded Korra of her previously unattainable crush. Maybe, with the way Asami was acting… maybe she had a chance?

“You’re an awesome person, Asami,” she said truthfully, and Asami met her eyes again. “You’re smart and kind and you care a lot about your company and your people and… you’re not a _figure_. I mean—you _are_ , but you’re also, like, the coolest person I’ve ever had the pleasure of meeting. And for someone as amazing as you to want to talk to just a boring security guard like me? I’m really thankful for that. So thank _you_.”

Asami held her gaze for a moment before speaking. “Korra…” She huffed, looking like she was frustrated with herself. “I’m not good at this, at _all_.”

“At what?” Korra asked, and wasn’t exactly surprised to find that her voice came out a little shaky.

Asami huffed at herself again. “There’s… a little tea shop around the corner. It’s got these really nice murals and they have really good oolong, and I know how much you like oolong—“

“I’d love to,” Korra blurted without thought. “I’d love to go on a tea date with you.”

For a moment, Korra was concerned that she’d read the situation wrong, and was half a second away from going on damage control, but then Asami smiled—a full, toothy grin Korra wanted to see again and again.

The tension seeped out of Asami’s shoulders, and she motioned to the bike in the middle of the room. “They open in an hour. We can take this bike, if you want.”

“Do I get to hold on to you?” Korra blurted, _again_ without thought, and good _god_ _what the hell is wrong with you?_ “Uh—uh, no, I mean… I mean you—I’ll… _shit._ ”

But Asami didn’t look mad or uncomfortable or anything, she just smiled a little wider and nodded, her cheeks a little redder than before. “You can… you can do that when we’re not on a motorcycle, too.”

Korra smiled right back, relieved beyond words. “Really?”

“Really,” Asami confirmed, but her brow furrowed in thought after a moment. “However… I _might_ have to find you another job. Is that… would that be okay?”

“Asami, if I get to spend more time with you, I’ll work on a dump truck.”


	6. Trigger Finger (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From korra-of-the-south: _"This one is gonna be angsty. I'm gonna give you a sentence starter; "I thought you were dead!"_

The chase is over, she’s won.

She’s collecting the spoils of her victory—useful trinkets for the road, food, water, whatever was on the body lying at her feet.

For once, she doesn’t feel bad about the kill.

Asami deserved it.

Korra shoulders on, rifle at the ready. Betrayal is too soft a word for what she’s endured. The body behind her is a testament to that fact. But she’s trained herself to feel nothing, to just take a deep breath and move on.

All life is expendable, even Asami’s.

So she meanders down the road, trigger finger itching for another kill. Maybe this is who she is now. Cold. Ruthless. Unrelenting.

Maybe she likes it that way.

Maybe she should be paying more attention to her surroundings, because gunfire pierces the air around her, and she dives down, but not before getting clipped in the shoulder.

She curses, gets hit in the leg. Curses again.

Her attacker is silent, deadly. She can’t see where it’s coming from.

But she’s better, she’s a killer now and god knows she’s going to—

Get shot in the head.

Before blackness closes in, she sees Asami pry the gun out of her dying hands.

“What the f—I thought you were  _dead!_ ”

Asami tugs the microphone away from her mouth, eyes not leaving the screen as she pops a chip in her mouth.

“I respawned.”

Korra loses. Again.


	7. Problems With Perfection (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From a friend: _"A picnic and a rainy day."_

Some things just need to be perfect.

A Satomobile, fresh off the line; a handmade radio for a dear friend; and this fucking indoor picnic.

To qualify the statement, Asami can handle imperfections. In fact, she embraces them. Engineering is what she does best, and it's nothing but trial and error. Issues and tweaks and little problems that turn into bigger problems. When something blows up in her face, she's more than happy to take a few steps back and start again. She's fixed every kind of machine, designed and built contraptions from scratch but for some strange reason, she can't manage to set up a simple dinner on a blanket in the middle of the living room.

She's on her hands and knees, scrubbing furiously at the carpet because for the (completely unexaggerated) _third_ time, she's spilled red wine all over the beige flooring. She hates beige. They're getting hardwood floors installed at the next opportunity or so help her she will not hesitate to rip the floor up by herself.

"I can't believe this," she grumbles, and sits back on her haunches to take a look at the now pink splotch on the floor. Scrubbing has done nothing but ruin her beige dishcloth (why is everything in the apartment _beige?_ ) and exacerbate the problem. But, maybe, if she turns her head just so… the stain kind of looks like a bird. For this, however, Asami assumes putting a bird on it will not rectify the situation.

She pushes herself off of the floor to survey her hard work. Or, what looks like a lack thereof.

The plaid blanket has two, much less birdlike stains in its center, and there's a circular burn near the corner from when she'd decided to put a hot pan down while she cleaned the kitchen. Suffice to say, the pan burned the blanket. And the carpet. And also her hand. Not only that, but in her rush to move the offending object back to the kitchen, she'd dropped all of the dumplings, dumplings that had taken _hours_ to perfect, right on to the nasty-ass beige carpet.

Asami's nightmares are tinged with beige.

All she had wanted—the hours of work and preparation, the burning and the spilling, the groans of frustration—was to do something nice for her girlfriend.

Korra's been gone a week. Exactly seven days too long.

The only good her absence had served was the time for Asami to plan this stupid _stupid_ picnic. She'd wanted it outside, but it had been raining all day. Even now, as Asami stares absently out of the window, the downpour is still torrential, and the sky looks like the personification of her hatred for beige. Dark, sinister, and really fucking irritated.

She'd also wanted to make one of Korra's favorites—chicken dumplings, Pema's recipe. Dumplings which remain on the floor because spirits, if the carpet hadn't ruined _everything else._

She can't blame the carpet. She really can't, it has done nothing wrong. Everything that's gone on is the result of human error. Human error most likely stemmed from lack of sleep because her girlfriend has been gone a week and Asami is now blaming the floor.

Really, she just wants Korra home.

And because everything else had gone wrong, it's at this moment that the spirits decide to take pity on her, and Asami hears keys scrabble at the lock.

She turns to see Korra, just as haggard and exhausted as Asami feels, standing in the doorway with a look of complete bewilderment.

Asami is so delirious. "Hey,” she says, and it doesn't feel like her voice, but she motions toward the disaster area. "This is a picnic."

Korra doesn't say anything for a beat, just staring at Asami, and while it's nice to have Korra staring, it's also nice to have Korra talking.

"I kind of ruined it."

Korra's face breaks into a grin, and then she's striding towards Asami and gathering her up in her arms. "No you didn’t,” she says, kisses the tip of her nose. "It's perfect."

"Korra, there's a massive burn on the carpet,” she says, and can't help but laugh.

"I don't think it would be _our_ carpet if it didn't have some kind of injuries."

"I did manage to keep some of the wine off of the floor, though."

"Oh?"

"Miraculously,” Asami huffs, pressing her forehead against Korra's. "Now, I'd really like to get drunk off of the remaining wine and just kind of pass out on you."

"Honestly, I can't think of a better way to end the day,” Korra says, leaning in for a kiss.

When they part, Asami can just feel the frustration of her day fall off in waves. She smiles, pressing her face into the crook of Korra's neck. Korra wraps her arms around her, swaying them gently.

She opens her eyes after a moment, and while she could probably fall asleep against Korra right now, she also wants one more look at her failed attempt at a picnic. It looks terrible, but she's wrapped up in her girlfriend's arms and she's dozing off, and it really does look like a tornado swept through their apartment, but Korra's right.

It's perfect.


	8. The Birds and The Bumbleflies (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From willoghby: _"Something on Air Temple Island."_

“Asami, where do babies come from?”

If Korra could have taken a photograph of the greatest moment of her life, she would have.

The image: A breezy day in early spring. Wildflowers blooming all over Air Temple Island, trees cloaked in whites and pinks. A woman sits on a stone bench, a small boy on her lap. She holds a children’s book out in front of them both.

His face: The  _picture_  of innocence, head tilted back to look at the woman.

Her face: Mortification. Disillusionment. The _death_  of innocence.

Part of Korra wants to draw herself to the scene, to save her girlfriend. The other,  _louder_  part keeps her firmly planted on the ground where she’s sitting, eyes shutting again in meditation. …’ _Meditation_.’

“Well… Rohan… I feel like you should ask your parents, you know?”

“But  _they’re_  not here.  _You’re_  here. So where do babies come from?”

From across the yard, Korra can hear Asami’s sigh. She knows that it’s pointed, she knows that Asami is trying to get her attention, but it seems as if Raava has given her this opportunity to enjoy a moment more than she’s ever enjoyed any other moment of her life. Korra will be  _damned_  if she doesn’t honor the blessing.

“I mean—I’m just—oh, wow! Look, we’re almost on the next chapter! Rohan, don’t you like this book so far? I think there’s going be a sky bison in this section—look at the picture!”

There’s a pause. Korra focuses every bit of energy on keeping her eyes shut.

“Do  _sky bison_  babies come from the same place as  _people_  babies?”

“Oh— _wow._  You—are you sure you don’t want to finish this book?”

“Is there baby making in this book?”

Korra hears a choking noise from the bench, and it’s probably Asami, and a laugh rises in her throat, so close to being audible that she has to tense every single muscle in her body to prevent the inevitable.

“There’s—you know, there’s not.”

“Are there baby making books?”

 _Nope—_ “ _Pffbt._ ”— _shit._

“Hey, Rohan,”  _Oh, no_. “you know who would be able to help you find a book like that? Korra! Go over there and get her to help you!”

The pitter-patter of little feet gets closer and closer, but even though she’s already made it  _very_  clear that she is not, in fact, meditating, Rohan still prods her lightly, warily, before getting  _right up_  to her ear and doing a very poor imitation of a whisper.

“Korra where are the baby making books?”

She snorts. She has to. “M-maybe— _heh_ —go ask Jinora? She’s booky. She knows books.”

When she cracks an eye open, she’s greeted to an overly-dramatic pout. “But Asami told me to come over to  _you_  because  _she_  doesn’t know!”

“Oh, she  _knows_.”

“ _Korra,_ ” Asami groans, and Korra has to physically bite her tongue at her girlfriend’s tone. “Rohan, can you wait until your parents get back from dinner?” And then she adds, under her breath, “…or maybe until you’re old enough to drive.”

“But I want to  _know!_ ”

“What do you want to know, little brother? Meelo has  _aaaall_ the answers.”

Oh  _no_. “Meelo,  _no_ ,” Asami says, and Korra catches a glimpse at the look of sheer desperation on Asami’s face as she looks between the boys, Meelo sauntering out from inside. “It’s not important! Can you both just wait for your parents, please?”

Korra stands, finally deciding to come to the rescue. “Yeah guys,” she begins, earning herself a better spot on Asami’s shit list. “Hang on a couple more hours and they’ll explain it all!”

“Explain what?”

Initially, Korra had been having fun enjoying Asami’s temporary discomfort, but as Ikki glides into the courtyard, landing between her brothers, Korra feels Asami’s worry become her own.

“ _Nothing!_  Absolutely nothing! Can we please go inside and just—sit in silence? For like two hours?” Asami all but whines, glaring at Korra for assistance.

The problem is that Korra is similarly at a loss, and they can only keep the three younger airbender kids at bay for so long.

“You guys want to play air ball?” Korra tries, and it gets her nowhere. “Or… uh, go for a swim?”

Rohan sighs, putting his fists on his hips— _wow_ , he looks like Pema. “I  _just_  want to know where babies come from!”

Meelo frowns, confused. “From… from baby factories. From… huh,” He looks to his sister for help, but Ikki just shrugs. “I’ve never thought of that. So we have to know! Korra, Asami, we demand  _answers!_ ”

Korra looks at Asami. Together, silent, they weigh their options: Lie. Poorly, probably; Tell the truth and die, probably; Run… run?

Asami shakes her head. Not run. They have to babysit.

 _Ideas_. Asami’s eyes plead.  _Good ideas._

 _Idea._  Korra’s eyes widen with a thought.  _Good idea._

Asami nods.  _Good luck._

“ _Air children!_ ” Korra bellows, getting the kids’ attention. They stop bickering, snapping their gazes at her expectantly. “If you swear on your lives to drop this issue for the next…”

“Three hours,” Asami offers.

“—three hours!” Korra continues, “I will personally immortalize you three in statues of either earth or metal. I’ll put them right here in the courtyard.”

The look on Asami’s face tells her she’s made a terrible mistake.

“ _Deal!_ ” the kids yell in unison.

* * *

Pema and Tenzin take exactly three hours and fifteen minutes to return. Asami times it.

When they do, Korra is in the courtyard, making good on her promise.

“Korra what—what are you—is that  _Meelo?_ ” Is Tenzin’s very first question.

Korra sighs, trying to fix Meelo’s nose. “It is,” She doesn’t have the energy to elaborate, “Please go speak to your children.”

From inside, there’s a yell and bang, and  _another_  bang, and Asami comes  _hauling ass_  out of the door, making a beeline for Korra. When she sees Tenzin and Pema, she stops short, relief flooding her expression.

“ _Oh,_  thank the spirits.”

Pema looks like she’s about to speak, but the kids come running out and before one syllable passes her lips—

 _“MOMMYDADDY WHERE DO BABIES COME FROM?_ ”

They don’t babysit for a while.


	9. Armistice (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a friend.

The tips of Asami’s fingers were always cold. Korra loved the cold.

Korra could feel them resting against her knuckles as they made their way down the street. Asami gestured with her free hand as she explained the thermodynamic-something-or-other of the engine-thingy—Korra had given up trying to understand the moment Asami had mentioned  _physics_ , but still listened with rapt attention. When Asami got going about her work, the way her eyes lit up and the small smiles that punctuated every sentence made Korra’s heart swell in her chest.

“Earth to Korra,” Asami sang. It took a moment to register that she was waiting for an answer, eyes sparkling and a smirk playing at the corner of her mouth.

“I’m listening!”

Asami chuckled. “I asked you what you wanted for lunch twice.”

“We—uh, you did?” Korra stuttered, but her confusion earned her a fond look from Asami—the kind that coupled a squeeze of her hand with an easy, genuine smile that crinkled the edges of her eyes. “I was distracted.”

“Oh?”

“Mm,” Korra returned the squeeze, stroking the back of Asami’s hand with her thumb. “Your eyes light up when you’re talking about work. I guess I got lost in them—ultra cheesy, huh?”

Before she could prepare herself, Asami was pressing a chaste kiss to the corner of her mouth, smiling that same soft smile when she pulled away. “Ultra  _sweet_ ,” she corrected. As she opened her mouth again—Korra could only hope to say something even  _cheesier_ —something hard whacked her shoulder, almost catching her off-balance.

“Hey, what the—“

“Keep that filth to yourself!” When they turned, there was a man behind them holding a basket of apples against his hip that he might have been selling before he’d decided to  _throw_  them. He held a green apple aloft, a look of disgust over withered features. He looked like the kind of person who’d never been happy a day in his life. And Korra wanted to beat him to a pulp, especially at his next words, “You two are  _disgusting!_ ”

Korra edged forward, gritting her teeth. “You want to come over here and say that to my  _face?_ ”

She felt a firm grip on both of her arms, and Asami’s voice beside her. “He’s not worth it, Korra.”

“He hit me with an  _apple!_ ” Korra complained, but Asami’s grip was already loosening the knot of anger in the pit of her stomach.

The man glared at them for a moment longer, placing the apple back in his basket like it was a bomb. It wasn’t the admission of defeat or fear that Korra would have wanted, but he’d probably realized that fighting the Avatar would not end well for him. He adjusted his basket pointedly and hobbled across the street, grumbling. Asami turned Korra away from the scene, keeping a firm but gentle grip on her arms until they rounded a corner.

“Are you okay?” she asked once they’d made it to the next street.

Korra gave a derisive huff. “I’m fine.  _Angry_ , but fine. Spirits—what  _nerve_ , you know?”

“I know,” Asami sighed, and it was one of the weary ones Korra often heard when she’d talk about problems at work. “You’ve got to wade through a sea of jerks to find good people. Hey—” Korra stopped, looking up at what had Asami distracted. She gestured towards a brightly painted sign for a tea shop ahead. “How about we step in for some tea?”

“Yeah…” Korra agreed, a touch of weariness creeping into her voice, “I think I need it.”

As Korra pulled the door open, gesturing for Asami to enter before her, a soft bell chimed above her head. Asami tossed her a smile, and Korra felt the anger that had welled up in her chest dissipate further. She reached out for Asami’s hand again, which was gladly accepted as they walked up to the display case. The shop was tiny, only two tables inside and another one out front. Light wood panelling and big windows kept the space light and open, and Korra found the natural light to be relaxing. The place smelled like fresh-baked breads and pastries and the soft aroma of delicate teas—it smelled like a cozy home should.

“I’ll be there in just a moment!” a woman’s frail voice came from behind the back wall, and before long there was an elderly woman shuffling out of the far doorway. She was small and feeble with a stooped back and snow-white hair. Her eyes were turned to the floor as she wiped powdery hands clean against her apron. “Did you come to pick up—oh!” she exclaimed, finally looking up, covering her mouth with her hands as she noticed them. “Miss Sato! Avatar Korra—what a wonderful surprise! Please, sit wherever you’d like. What can I get for you two? Tea? Pastries?”

“Just a pot of jasmine, please,” Asami asked politely, giving the woman a gentle smile.

“Of course, of course, I’ll be just a moment. Please, sit, sit!”

They obliged, and the moment Korra had sat down, Asami took both her hands, brushing her thumbs over her knuckles. Korra gave her a grateful smile, and the look she was awarded in return almost made her forget about the bigot from the street. Asami had always had that effect on her—one glance and she was completely relaxed, one touch and she was at peace. Their location was helping, too, and Korra found that she couldn’t be bothered to care about what had happened on the street. Not with Asami looking at her like that.

“Feeling better?” Asami asked, eyes searching.

“A lot better. Thank you,” she admitted, giving calloused hands a squeeze. She chuckled then, “How do you do it? How are you always so calm? I was ready to snap that guy’s neck.”

Asami laughed. “Don’t mistake control for calm. I handle my emotions differently,” she said, looking down at their hands. “It comes across as boring, more often than not.”

Korra huffed, incredulous. “Like you could  _ever_  be _boring,_ ” At that, Asami glanced back up, and Korra offered her a grin. “I guess I’ve never picked your brain after a fight. You’ve only yelled at me like, twice.”

“You don’t make me angry.  _Often,_ ” Asami added, laughing. “Maybe  _irritated_ , but I wouldn’t lose my temper for that.”

A sudden pang echoed in Korra’s chest. It must have shown on her face, because Asami’s expression grew serious, and she gave her hands another, concerned squeeze. Korra sighed, knowing Asami would ask if she didn’t explain first. “I just… I’ve been trying to work on my temper for so long, and I’d like to think I’ve gotten better, but sometimes…” She sighed again, searching for the words in the woodgrain of their table. “Sometimes I feel like you have to put up with so much  _nonsense_.”

Asami tugged on her hands, and when Korra looked up, she’d leaned across the table to press a soft kiss to her lips. It was short, gentle, but the way Asami kissed her always made her feel so loved. When she pulled away, she kept close, leant over the table. “Korra, you and I handle things  _very_  differently. But we have the same motivations and the same values. That’s why we work so well together,” She smiled and Korra felt a wonderful, tingling warmth at the tips of her fingers. “We wouldn’t put up with each other’s nonsense if we didn’t want to.”

She watched the woman before her carefully, but instead of anything longer, her mind could only settle on one, unquestionable truth, “I love you.”

Asami’s smile grew, green eyes a little glassy. “I love you, too.”

Korra was so lost in her eyes that she almost missed the old woman shuffling back around the display case with their tea. They parted so she could set the teapot and cups down between them. “I had some special leaves from the Yang Province in stock. I hope you both enjoy. It is an honor to have you in my shop,” she said, meticulously arranging their teacups. When she’d finished, she rose slowly, but looked as if she wanted to speak again. “I don’t want to impose, but could I perhaps introduce you both to my wife? I know she’d love to meet you.”

 _Wife?_  Korra thought, catching Asami’s eye. “Of course! We’d love to meet her,” Asami answered after a beat, giving both Korra and the woman a reassuring smile.

The woman looked so thrilled at their acceptance, Korra couldn’t help but feel a little excited along with her.

“I guess we finished wading through that sea of jerks you mentioned,” Korra said, feeling light and giddy. “Didn’t take long.”

Asami just shrugged like she’d known that this would happen, taking Korra’s hands again with a fond look. “It never does.”

There was a clamor from the back, but Korra’s eyes were locked on to Asami’s when the woman pattered back over to their table.

“Ren, I’d like to introduce you to two wonderful ladies! This is Miss Sato and Avatar Korra.”

They released each other’s hands again to look up, and Korra was confused for a moment to see the old woman alone. In her hands was what looked like… a picture frame. She turned it out to them, a beautiful woman framed in gold and silver leaf at its center. She had soft features and light eyes, and a radiant smile.

In an instant, Korra’s heart both broke and lifted.

At Korra and Asami’s joint silence, the woman just sighed fondly, giving the picture a gentle once-over before turning back to them. She offered them a watery little smile. “I like to keep her close, even after all these years,” she explained, clutching the photo to her chest with shaky hands. “It would have been so wonderful to have public figures like you two when we were young. I’m sure you know this, but you two give people hope. I expect you understand how important that is these days.”

“Yes ma’am,” Asami said instantly, her voice small, wavering, and Korra turned to see her blinking hard, clearing her throat before responding again. “Thank you. That… that means a lot.”

Korra was at a loss, looking between Asami, the old woman, and the picture of her wife. Only one thought came to her mind at the scene, so, true to form, she just blurted it: “Can I give you a hug?”

The woman looked taken aback for all of a second before her face broke into a toothy grin. “Why of course you can!” She carefully set the photo down on the display case and Korra went to hug her. Once she had, Asami joined in, and Korra couldn’t stem the tears that prickled at the corners of her eyes.

Her entire life, Korra had learned from her elemental masters, and she found that she wasn’t surprised at the fact that listening to the elderly woman in the tea shop felt the same. They spoke for hours, soaking up the memories she laid out for them, admiring how her generation had stood strong in the face of hate. Korra felt responsible, then. Like she had a duty to the world not only as a force of good, but a beacon of hope and understanding. Maybe her and Asami’s lifetime wouldn’t give way to the future that shone so brightly in her mind’s eye, but she wanted to do her part to pave the way. She was motivated to make this little old lady proud.

When they’d said their goodbyes, she grabbed Asami’s hand on the sidewalk, lacing their fingers together, and Asami gave her a smile filled with the determination she’d gained over a pot of jasmine tea.

So later, when she kissed Asami in the middle of the city, soft and sweet, it felt a little like a stop along the road and a little like a beginning.


	10. Bear It Well (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For another friend.

Asami finds that it’s a little harder on this side of the fight.

She’s working late hours, designing, fixing, planning. The things that soothe her mind into an organized mess rather than the troublesome clutter she usually sifts through late at night.

There’s a polaroid sitting on the corner of her drafting desk, and she can’t figure out if it’s taunting her or not. Whatever it’s doing, she can’t bring herself to put it back in the drawer she’d found it in. So she draws a straight line. It’s not good enough. She tries again. She repeats the motion of pencil against paper against straight-edge five more times before she’s satisfied. She feels like the photograph has accepted her line as well, so she can move on.

This goes on until her vision is blurry with exhaustion, and the next line she draws snaps the tip of her pencil clean off. The little inconvenience isn’t… well it’s  _little_ , but the crack of graphite breaks something inside her head, something she hadn’t realized she’d been keeping together.

She has enough mind to roll her blueprints up before she starts sobbing. The fact that she makes no noise when she cries now makes her chest heave harder—she’s grown so used to being silent.

At night it’s harder to think because her mind always wanders to the same place. Little things bring her to other places she tries to avoid. The snap of pencil lead is amplified hundreds of times—it sounds like the crushing of metal. The light from her desk lamp is a fire, setting her work room up in flames.

She closes her eyes, fighting against herself, pressing the heels of her hands into her temples like if she applies enough pressure she can force the thoughts out of her head for good. It never works, but it doesn’t stop her from trying.

When she opens her eyes again, they land on the photo, and it swims in her vision.

There’s a little girl in a flight helmet. She’s happy, held aloft between her parents. After all this time, it doesn’t feel real anymore, and that hurts. Her happy memories feel more like dreams now. Still, she can’t put the picture away. It hurts, but Asami has realized that it’s a pain she indulges in, one she finds herself searching for. Knowing that it’s painful to think about her parents makes them feel more real, and that… well, it sucks.

She doesn’t count the seconds on the clock as she sits and cries. There’s no reason, she’ll just repeat the process again tomorrow.

Tonight, however, there’s a soft knock on her door and a muffled, “Asami?” from the other side.

Part of her wants to keep crying, keep poking the old wound right alongside the fresh one, but she’s already wiping her eyes with the back of her hand before she can think to remain silent, composing herself and calling for the voice to enter. She knows who it is, and the knowledge makes her more nervous than reassured.  _That_  knowledge makes her uneasy.

“I didn’t want to bother you, but I… are you okay?”

She knew this was coming. “I’m fine, Korra. Why are you up so late?”

Korra is silent for a moment, contemplative. Asami doesn’t turn to look at her. Korra, to her credit, gets the hint. “Restless, I guess,” she says, and out of the corner of her eye, Asami can see her lean against the doorframe. “I um… I just wanted to see you. I hope that’s okay.”

Her voice is vulnerable, just like Asami feels under the thin veneer of composure. It breaks her resolve a little more, but she doesn’t want to talk about it. Not now. “Of course it’s okay, Korra,” She busies herself with putting her tools away so her mind won’t wander again. “I was getting ready to pack up anyway.”

She knows when Korra is thinking hard. For a moment, she feels a little guilty for not putting her worries out in the open where Korra can see them, but the guilt turns instantly into irritation. Irritation with her emotions, irritation with herself, irritation with Korra—but she can’t bring herself to act on the feeling. It’s irrational, and she recognizes it as such, but it doesn’t fade.

“Can I show you something?”

Finally, Asami looks up, catching Korra’s eyes as they shine in the dim light. “Sure,” she says, unsure.

Without hesitation, Korra steps forward, tugging on her three-quarter sleeves until she can pull them off and set them on Asami’s work table.

Even through her dark mood, she can still appreciate Korra’s arms, if only superficially.

Korra takes another step closer, holding her left arm out palm-up while she gestures to the skin of her forearm with her right hand. “If you look close enough, you can see little splotches,” She holds her arm closer to the light, and Asami leans in for a better look. “I kept them covered up when I was younger because I thought armbands were cool. But after I got poisoned…” She takes a deep breath. “Well, they have a different meaning now. They protect me.”

The memories of Korra’s lowest points do little for Asami’s demeanor, but even years after the incident, her first reaction is to comfort. She doesn’t have the energy for it outwardly, but she steps a little closer to Korra—a poor substitute, she knows.

“I’ve never really shown anyone these, not with a real explanation,” Korra continues, running her finger along the discolored skin. The splotches aren’t easy to see, but with the way Korra looks at them, Asami knows that she notices the marks more than anyone. When she continues, she meets Asami’s eyes fully. “I trust you with my life, Asami. You’ve always been there for me. I just… I want you to know that I’m here for you too, whenever.”

It’s such a simple truth, and one Asami already knows, but it’s what she needs to hear—it’s  _exactly_  what she needs to hear in this moment.

Before she can even think to stop them, her tears come back full force, and the photo on the desk begs for her attention, but she gives it to Korra instead. She doesn’t have to say a word for Korra to know that she needs a hug. Korra’s bare, vulnerable arms are strong, comforting. It makes Asami think that she can let herself cry and put herself back together the next day, and that hurting now is okay. That hurting tomorrow is okay, too. And Korra’s embrace doesn’t erase the pain, but it soothes it, if only for tonight.

“I can hold us both up now,” Korra mumbles, lips against Asami’s temple, “You made sure I could.”

And she  _weeps_. It’s not a lonely pain, it’s a grief so deep she can’t tell how far it goes. She hasn’t followed it where it leads, hasn’t given herself the chance to look. Maybe she wouldn’t have been able to on her own. But with Korra literally holding her up, like she said she could, Asami feels like she can shatter, like she doesn’t have to hold herself together at the seams.

They stand there for a long time, Korra rubbing soothing patterns against her back as she cries every tear she can into Korra’s shoulder. They don’t speak as they part, but Korra wipes her cheeks dry with gentle hands, and presses a soft kiss to her forehead with love. With  _so_  much love, Asami can feel it down where the grief lies.

Instead of sleeping in her office like she has been, she goes to Air Temple Island. Now that the dam has broken, she’s not sure if she can be alone. Sometimes solitude helps, but not now, not when she feels so raw.

She feels a little silly for having kept this all locked away once she’s drained and exhausted, dozing off against Korra. They’re still new at this, but Asami trusts Korra just as much as Korra trusts her, and she knows it’ll take time for her unconscious mind to figure out that there’s someone for her to go to now, that the three-year absence is over, and now she has to deal with a different one. A gap that had persisted, all but unnoticed until she’d found forgiveness. The space is emptier now, combined with the old one where her mother’s smile fades from her memory.

She wants to cry again, but there are no more tears.

Korra pulls her a little closer, and doesn’t question her. She doesn’t prod, doesn’t demand. She’s just there, and while Asami isn’t in a place to tell her how grateful she is for that, she knows that one day she will be.

When she’s on the other side of  _this_  fight, she’s not sure if things will be easier, but she’ll get there.

She always does.


	11. A First For Everything (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> I haven't actually posted this one on Tumblr, but I found the prompt there a million years ago, so... whatever.
> 
>  
> 
> _"After the first time."_

Korra figured things should have felt different after her first time.

Especially since it’d been her _first_ first time, and during the previous night she’d felt like the world had been tilted on its axis.

And she might have felt a little different the next day, like there was a little more spring to her step, and that she’d been smiling a lot more than she usually would on any other Monday, but all in all she felt… pretty normal. It wasn’t concerning, just a little ways off from her expectations.

So in the morning she trained with the airbender kids like she’d promised to, and met with Zhu Li at noon like she’d planned, and she’d stopped for a smoothie at the Little Ba Sing Se Fashion Mall with Bolin and Mako when they’d all had an hour to spare.

That was about it.

The rest of the day was meetings that she wasn’t as irritated to sit through as she’d been in previous days, and when she’d retired to Air Temple Island that night, she was tired, but more than content.

The only issue was that when she laid down, she couldn’t get to sleep. Because less than twenty-four hours prior, she’d been in a different bed, doing different things.

Maybe things _were_ different. Maybe she just hadn’t noticed.

She had memories now, ones that stuffed her conscious mind full, ones that kept her up. But Korra wouldn’t complain. She’d never fallen prey to insomnia for a _good_ reason before. So _that_ was different.

Adjusting herself against the hard bed, she let her mind wander. The thing was, the more she let it wander, the more she had to adjust. And the more she had to adjust, the less sleep she got. She thought once about trying to expedite the journey to sleep, but a few minutes with a hand under her waistband proved fruitless, frustrating. _That_ was different, too.

The big problem was that she missed Asami.

Maybe something had shifted within her somewhere she couldn’t see, but it was something she wanted to talk about, and hadn’t yet had the chance. Asami had been called off to the factory just as the sun had risen, and all Korra had got in the way of early morning interaction had been a kiss as her girlfriend hurried out the door. And she knew that Asami would pull an all-nighter, what with the scale of her newest project. She’d done it before, and it was that determination that made Korra so proud of her. That, and about a million other things.

So she couldn’t _force_ herself to sleep, couldn’t _coax_ herself to sleep, couldn’t _think_ herself to sleep, what was there?

A soft noise indicated the opening of the sliding door.

Korra shot up, blinking hard at the darkness.

“It’s just me,” came the voice in reply, and Korra felt her entire body relax. _Asami_. “Give me a second to get changed. I’ll be right there.”

There was a lightness in her tone, a lilting quality Korra had only just begun to hear. She loved it. “You ever hear about the Law of Attraction?”

“Mhm,” Asami hummed from the other side of the room, bemused. Korra could just make out her figure as she slipped out of her work clothes. _This_ was different as well. The dip of Asami’s spine, the smoothness of her skin. “Kind of an ‘ask and you shall receive’ mentality. Ask the universe, I guess. Why?”

“Because,” Korra began with a kind of noncommittal noise, gauging the stupidity of her next words. “I was just thinking about you and here you are. I’d say it’s definitive proof, but I think about you all the time. We’ll have to run more tests.”

Asami laughed, louder than Korra had expected. It made her smile. “You sound like _me_ ,” she giggled, and Korra found herself squinting at the darkness to watch the muscles of her back shift as she slid her nightgown on. “I guess I’ve been rubbing off on you, huh?”

It wasn’t meant to be a joke or any kind of innuendo, but Korra felt the heat rising to her cheeks all the same. “I—well… I guess you have.”

She heard the padding of bare feet and Asami’s little huff of realization. Before she responded, Korra scooted over so her back was pressed against the wall and Asami could lay down beside her. “In more ways than one,” Asami joked and leant forward, pressing a misplaced kiss to the side of Korra’s nose. They both laughed. “Where’s your mouth?”

Instead of telling her, Korra pressed her lips against Asami’s, firm enough to earn her a little intake of breath but gentle enough that she could feel the softness of red-stained lips on hers. It was slow, languid, and in the cover of night they could both imagine that they had forever to just kiss. Korra wished that they had forever, because she’d realized time and time again in the months they’d been together, that she’d never once tired of kissing Asami.

A hand came up to Korra’s jaw, framing it with gentle care, and it felt a little like worship and a little like love. Asami’s fingers played along her skin, moving to thread through her hair, and Korra deepened the kiss in response, wanting to show her appreciation.

She was thinking about the previous night. Now, instead of a fantasy, she had something tangible to draw upon, a past experience that had lain between her thoughts the entire day, pulled front and center as Asami scratched at her scalp the way she knew Korra liked. The way she had the night before.

Even though it was the very last thing she wanted to do, Korra pulled away slowly, leaving one more indulgent peck before pressing her forehead against Asami’s and just breathing. Her skin was humming with energy, and she felt even more alive and wired than she had before, but there were still things they’d left unsaid, and Korra knew that she needed her wits about her if she was going to say them.

“Korra?” Asami’s voice was hoarse, but so raw and vulnerable that Korra felt her chest clench at the sound of her name. “Are you all right?”

This was new, too. Asami had always confided in her, but she’d left her heart bare in front of Korra the night before, and Korra couldn’t help but feel honored that she was the only one Asami let herself be that open with.

“I’ve never been better,” Korra answered, and had never felt the truth in an answer like that before. “I missed you today.”

Asami’s fingers played at the soft hairs on the back of her neck. “I missed you too,” she breathed, gentle, loving. “I thought about you all day.”

“Mm,” Korra hummed, closing her eyes at the sensation against her neck. It was so nice, and so distracting, but she couldn’t bring herself to ask Asami to stop. She didn’t _want_ her to stop. So she tried for a coherent thought, “Last night was…” she trailed off with a huff, still in awe of how it made her feel. “I don’t have the words.” She watched Asami’s features soften further, and the scratching at her neck slowed to a stop. “But I didn’t get to tell you how important—how much it meant to me. And I’ve been thinking about it—about _you_ , and I still can’t describe it.”

“I feel the same, Korra,” Asami said, and Korra met her eyes, almost overwhelmed by the earnestness in those words. “You told me it was your first time, and at first… at first I felt a little guilty that it wasn’t mine.” She admitted, but before Korra could retort that, _no_ , she didn’t care about any of that, she was continuing, “You’re _so_ special to me. And last night… I’ve never felt like that before, with anyone. No one else has ever been _you._ ”

Oh, to hear that. Korra _knew_ , objectively, how Asami felt. But to hear those words from her was beyond anything she’d ever felt. A little vindicating, too, to know that she was… maybe not _better_ , but _more_ than the others. They didn’t matter, and it was only when Korra saw the trust and the openness in Asami’s eyes that she realized that she’d been a little worried that she might not have measured up.

It didn’t matter, now. None of that mattered. And _that_ was different, too.

So she told Asami that she loved her. Because it was the easy truth, and because she’d never felt more confident in the way she’d felt about another person before. There had always been misgivings or concerns with others, but when Asami echoed her words, leaning forward to kiss her again, Korra felt unequivocally _right_ about her admission.

And they made love that night, because it had been said, and because neither could think of any other way to express what they were feeling. Words could not— _would_ not do justice.

After, as Asami curled against Korra’s chest, still out of breath, but so content, so satisfied— _that_ was different, too. Korra had never been so at peace.

To Korra, it seemed like everything and nothing had changed at the same time.


	12. Hysteria (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From runswithb33r: " _The Krew, drunk._ "
> 
> It turned into more than that. NSFW.

As a rule of thumb, it's a bad idea to get drunk with Bolin.

Not, obviously, because he turns into some kind of crazy serial killer, drunk with rage and vengeance and about five shots of hard liquor—but because of the exact opposite.

Bolin is the kind of drunk that will sing an off-key rendition of _“Secret Tunnel,”_ dance until he collapses, laugh for hours about nothing, (or maybe Mako falling flat on his face on the way to the bathroom) and also the kind of drunk that comes up with wide arrays of stupid ideas. Ideas that, if presented to a room of somber, _sober_ individuals, would be dismissed as childish, ridiculous, and inappropriate.

However, the state of the room is neither somber nor sober and even over the _two beers_ she'd consumed _,_ Korra feels herself warming up to the younger man's stupid, _stupid_ ideas.

"It'll be fun!"

Mako shakes his head. "You're drunk, Bo."

" _You're_ drunk!" Bolin sputters, swaying in his seat. He's not wrong—Mako looks a little off-kilter himself. "What's that matter anyway, we're having fun!"

From beside Bolin, Opal chuckles and places a hand on her boyfriend's arm. "I think it sounds like a fun idea. As long as you get me another drink."

The wink she tosses him takes a long, drunken minute to register, but once the realization lights up his unfocused eyes, he dives in for a sloppy kiss to her cheek. "You're the best!" he announces, throwing his hands up and almost smacking Opal in the process. He turns on the room's other occupants. "Korra? Asami? You guys in?"

Korra turns to her friend with a noncommittal shrug, and Asami swishes her drink around in its glass before answering. "I don't see why not."

Maybe it's a stupid idea, and maybe Korra should start drinking like her Water Tribe ancestry dictates she can, because when Bolin manages to pull up a website on his old laptop, declaring, "Operation: ‘Truth or Dare for Distinguished Adults’ is a go!" all Korra wants to do is throw herself out of the fourth-story window.

 

* * *

 

Mako's underwear are in the blender.

Bolin has chip clips on his nipples, Opal has gone in for her third keg stand looking rather green, and Asami has two sizzling pieces of bacon down her shirt.

It's Korra's turn, and even after a few more drinks, she's still not all that thrilled at the prospect of what's to come.

"Korra,” Bolin squeaks out, trying in vain not to cry as the chip clips do… well, what chip clips do. "Truth or Dare?"

Korra tries not to think about her decision. The alcohol makes it easier. "Dare."

Bolin winces and clicks something on his computer. The clips seem to have pulled him from teetering off of the cliff of drunkenness, because he reads the prompt with little error.

"Reenact a _Hysterical Literature_ short with the person to your left—you are the reader, you choose the literature. Your partner is off-screen,” Bolin's eyebrows scrunch up, from what Korra can assume is equal parts pain and confusion. "What, you have to read a book with—“ He looks to Korra's left, "Asami? That doesn't sound so bad."

For better or worse, no one in the room knows what this hysterical thing is, and Korra makes the mistake of offering the advice that may well lead to her demise: "Look it up."

Bolin complies, Mako shoves him out of the way when he takes about five too many tries to complete the first word. "Hysterical… here it is. It's a video."

Mako turns the screen so everyone can see, and Bolin drags Opal over from her place on the floor to watch.

There's a woman on screen. She's reading something Korra figures one would find in an occult bookstore. "Is this it? I have to read some weird book?" Korra asks, perplexed in a way only the internet can make her. "How is this ‘ _adult,_ ’ and why does Asami have to do anything?"

"That's a good question,” Asami hums from her spot beside Korra, "I already have two lukewarm pieces of bacon in my bra."

Bolin waves her off, now more interested in the video. Mako leans in as well, his expression scrutinizing. Korra chances a look at Asami, who just shrugs and turns back to the screen. The woman is… still reading? But—she's slurring her words a little, giggling at her own errors. Korra frowns, trying to understand. Is the book getting dirtier? Does she have to read some trashy romance novel? Is something embarrassing the woman on-screen?

Korra tilts her head, leans in and—the woman gasps, losing her composure for a moment. She shuts her eyes and puts the book down, her hands clenching. After a beat, she picks it back up and attempts another sentence, but thinks better of it with another strangled gasp. She doubles over the table, eyes screwed shut, and shudders with a very loud, very _telling_ moan.

The room is silent, save for the sounds of the woman on the computer having an orgasm while reading a novel.

The video ends.

"What—“ Korra attempts, her throat dryer than the Si Wong Desert, "What the hell was _that_?"

Mako looks seasick. Opal looks regular sick. Bolin is grinning and giggling like the idiot he is, and Asami—

Asami is watching Korra, and the look on her face is unreadable. Korra can't decide if it's a bad thing. Not because she doesn't like Asami looking at her. In fact, quite the contrary, she loves when Asami looks at her—her green eyes have always been so beautiful, and she's just so… about to go down on her? Oh, _fuck_.

"The kitchen table!" Bolin announces, and before Korra can protest or talk to Asami, or say anything of import, they're all being carted off to the kitchen.

 

* * *

 

After ten excruciating minutes of prompting, Korra decides on _Atlas Shrugged_. There's no rules on what book she picks. It's the driest, longest, most boring text she can find, and she figures she'll need it with her gorgeous best friend between her legs.

One thing is in her favor. The tablecloth on the kitchen table is floor-length. Then again, it might not be in her favor, because Korra's the only one that can see the pair of bright green eyes that look up at her from her lap. Her pants aren't even _off_ and Korra has to repress a shiver when Asami asks, "Are you sure about this?" with the kind of concern only capable by Asami Sato herself.

"Yeah," Korra replies, _not_ sure about this, "if you are."

Asami just rubs her knee with a reassuring smile, and Korra does her best not to melt.

"'Cmon you guys! We all had to do our dares,” Bolin shouts from his place atop the counter—right in front of Korra. She does her best to scowl at him—his dare wasn’t _oral sex_ , what the _fuck—_ even as Asami's hands skim over her thighs.

Mako takes turns glaring at Bolin and Korra as he leans against the counter, wearing the most uncomfortable expression Korra has ever seen on a person. She can imagine that he's having mixed feelings about watching one of his exes go down on another one of his exes. For once, Korra's sure she feels the same. On the contrary, Opal has drank half her weight in nasty beer and blinks hard at Korra with a lopsided grin and a thumbs-up. She leans her all of her weight on Bolin, which knocks him off balance. He has to catch himself on Mako, who is still brooding and doesn't do anything to help his brother. Korra isn't sure the couple will stay sentient for long. It's probably a good thing.

She feels a pair of hands begin to unbuckle her belt, and for just a moment, she feels Asami's thumbs trace over the skin of her lower stomach.

Korra takes a deep, steadying breath. "Who is John Galt?" she reads, ignoring— _ignoring_ how easily Asami slides both her pants and her underwear down, pausing so Korra can lift her hips, and taking special care to rake her nails over her now bare thighs. She doesn't jump. She keeps her composure. "The light was ebbing, and Eddie Willers could not distinguish the bum's face…"

As she continues, Korra feels Asami's hands brush in feather-light touches over her calves, her knees, her thighs… "Eddie Willers pulled his shoulders straight, in conscientious self-discipline,” Korra did just that pulling her shoulders straight as her legs fell apart. "…Had he always felt it?"

Felt what? Systemic oppression? Or Asami's soft lips, kissing the tender skin of Korra's inner thighs, her warm hands pressing on her knees, easing them even further apart? She could assume that it’s the former, but Korra doesn't want to think about sticking it to the _man_ when there's a _woman_ mouthing at the skin of her lower stomach, tracing her hips with the tips of her fingers.

Korra presses on, only deterred when Asami's fingers slide up, find home, rubbing, caressing—“He did not know why he suddenly thought of the oak tree,” Korra continues, caring less and less about fucking Eddie Willers and his damn oak tree every second. Asami's thumb traces a tight circle around Korra's clit and she bites down on the skin of her inner thigh—Korra's breath hitches, but she pushes on.

"One night, lightning struck the—“ Asami's mouth replaces her thumb, and Korra closes her eyes for a moment. Then, remembering the bets her friends had placed against her, and the fact that they are all _watching_ her, presses the pleasure down as best she can. “—the oak tree…"

Asami is _trying_ now. Not that she hadn't been before, but the lighter, teasing touches were _nothing_ when compared to this _._

"He—“ Korra gasps as two of Asami's fingers find their way inside of her, her tongue makes a hard pass over her swollen clit, and she sees stars. " _Fuck._ He stood there for a while, making no sound…"

And Korra is most _definitely_ making sounds, and lots of them. She can't help it. No matter how boring _Atlas Shrugged_ is, it's doing abso-fucking-lutely _nothing_ to suppress the heat she feels build in her lower body, creeping upwards. Her face is hot, her entire body is on _fire_ —she has to look like a tomato, but Korra can't be fucked to care, because Asami is wonderful in every form of the word, and Korra makes a silent vow as Eddie Willers drones on about the stupid symbolic oak tree, that she will worship Asami forever and ever and always.

Asami's fingers have found their rhythm, and so has her mouth, and Korra tries desperately not to pause between every word. "H-he… he wanted no— _shit…_ sadness attached t-to his childhood…"

She's close. And Asami, ever brilliant and amazing, knows it. Korra can't ever remember a time when she's felt like this, like every molecule in her body is about to combust, like her skin is too small for whatever she's holding back, and _wow_ she's still managing to read the stupid book?

"…he loved— _shit!_ He loved his—oh _…_ H-he…"

She can't do it. Fuck the book, fuck Eddie what’s-his-face, _fuck—_

Asami's fingers crook upwards, and she sucks _hard,_ and that's it.

Korra doesn't remember tangling her fingers in Asami's hair, nor does she remember gripping the table so hard she feels her knuckle crack. She doesn't remember throwing her head back or letting out what has to be the longest string of gasps and moans and profanities anyone in the room had ever heard. The only thing she remembers after Asami's fingers is the white-hot, searing pleasure that threatens to burn her nerve-endings off, threatens to have her transcend into another dimension, to have her just _die_ right there.

Everyone else remembers those things, apparently, when she comes drifting back, gasping like she's run a marathon. Her body jerks as Asami eases her down, languidly letting her tongue drag along her sensitive inner thighs and her nails rake lightly over her calves. Korra rolls forward, one hand still tangled in Asami's hair and the other coming to run through her own hair, until she rests her forehead against the heel of her hand, her breathing slowing and her body cooling down. She feels like she's just been to heaven and back, and also that she could take a nap.

Finished, Asami pops up next to Korra, and the younger woman turns lazily to her best friend. Asami _never_ looks this disheveled _._ Her lipstick is either around her lips or completely gone, her hair is sticking up in the back, but she's smiling at Korra as she wipes her mouth and turns to their three other friends, two of which are sitting very awkwardly.

"I get the feeling we're done playing."

Opal is the first to recover from the shock, now mostly coherent, and she jabs Bolin in the side. "Why don't you do that for me?"

Bolin blinks a few times and squirms before turning to his girlfriend. “I, uh…"

Korra laughs tiredly at the man. "Bolin, speechless? That's a first."

"Well _you_ were pretty speechless a few seconds ago!"

Korra flushes. “I—“

“She was pretty vocal,” Asami chimes in, and if Korra can blush herself into an early grave, she's doing it. Asami drops down, her lips graze Korra's ear. "I take it I did a good job?"

At this, Korra actually laughs. "I don't think _good_ quite covers all that."

"Mmm," Asami hums, nipping at Korra's still-sensitive skin. "Glad to hear it."

"I'll have to—“ Korra's breath hitches as Asami presses her lips to a particularly tender spot. "…make it up to you later."

The breathy laugh she feels against her neck sends a shiver through her entire body. “I’m looking forward to it."


	13. Boom (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: " _I would love to see your take on a korrasami superhero AU!_ "

With the amount of times she’d broken right through walls, Asami wholeheartedly believed that the other woman had missed her calling as the Kool-Aid man.

“ _Oh yeah!_ ”

—she’d imagine her saying as she punched her way through solid brick and mortar, appearing on the other side of a wall just in time to get pelted with bullets.

It was a wonder that criminals still tried to shoot at her. There’d been a story in the paper about two idiots in a convenience store that had died from their own bullets—ricocheted off of her chest. She hadn’t even _done_ anything.

“I don’t think I can give you credit for that one,” Asami had told her.

She shrugged. “The store clerk looked pretty thankful for my _tits of steel_.”

Asami had shaken her head. “Please don’t ever say that to me again.”

But she had. Because above all else, The Avatar, Republic City’s most efficient defense against crime, was still Asami’s friend, Korra, who could annoy the living daylights out of her whenever she wanted to.

Like on the rare occasions when they both had a night to spare and would go to the batting cages together and Korra made it a point to break every single bat she used.

Asami sighed, long-suffering and weary when the sharp _crack_ of snapping wood came from the cage to her right— _again_.

“Oh, will you look at that,” Korra mused loudly, and Asami would not give her the satisfaction of gaining her full attention again. “Asami, you think I should get a metal one?”

“Do you think you should pay for the replacement?” she retorted, swinging her own undamaged bat and not looking at Korra. “Or any of the other replacements?”

Asami didn’t have to look to know that there was a heap of broken bats in Korra’s cage. If there had been anyone else there on a Wednesday night, it might have looked suspicious, but it was just them and the oblivious teenager at the check-out counter. Korra had a penchant for showing off her slew of powers in public.

The fact that she only did them for Asami was another matter.

“I never said I wouldn’t pay!” Korra protested, “But you never let me pay for anything, Miss Moneybags.”

She just ignored her until the baseballs ran out, and she exited her own cage alongside Korra. Korra, who looked like she was getting ready to make a fire, arms full of broken baseball bats.

She shook her head at her friend. Fondly, though, and it earned her one of those crooked grins. Holding the bats, clad in the form-fitting baseball tee she insisted on wearing to their batting cage excursions, grinning at Asami like she was… no, she couldn’t let her mind wander like that. Not when Korra held the weight of the world on her shoulders. Not when Asami’s own responsibilities weighed so heavily on her conscience.

It looked like Korra was getting ready to say something when the blaring of shrill alarms pierced the relative silence, effectively ending their night out.

She saw Korra’s face drop, her features harden and Asami’s spirits sank with it.

When she caught Korra’s eyes again, she offered the best smile she could. “Go,” she urged, “there’ll be another time.”

Before she could question it, Korra had stepped forward, planting a firm kiss on her cheek.

The next moment, she was gone, flying high above the city, and Asami could still feel the pressure of Korra’s lips against her cheek.

It wasn’t a long reverie, though. She sighed, eyes turned to the ground.

“What the hell am I going to do with all these bats?”

 

* * *

 

 _“Breaking news…_ ”

The TV was mostly for white noise, but standing idly with her nightly cup of coffee in hand, Asami found herself drawn to the flashing story, illuminating her living room.

“… _Explosions in the Dragon Flats Borough. Police and The Avatar were called on the scene when a grocery store burst into flames…”_

Asami frowned, padding in front of the TV set. The image was that of squad cars walling off a long stretch of neighborhood that she knew all too well. She’d overseen the restructure of the borough years prior, but with the state of affairs it looked as if she’d be doing it all over again.

_“…The Avatar arrived first, braving the flames to pull uninjured residents from apartments above the store…”_

_Good,_ Asami thought, relieved, _Korra saved them. All of them, hopefully._

_“…All residents were safe when a second explosion came from a neighboring building as others were evacuating…”_

Asami’s stomach dropped. Would Korra have had time to save them too?

The next footage shown was blurry and disorienting, but she could make out Korra’s form flying in and out of the adjacent building, pulling four, maybe five people out at a time. She was being aided by the firemen on the scene when the footage gave a violent shake—a _third_ explosion from the building that Korra was _in_.

Asami clutched her mug with white fingers. Korra had withstood worse, right?

_“…Everyone was evacuated when a third explosion hit, in the same apartment building. The Avatar was the only one remaining inside. All residents within the neighborhood are being relocated with no injuries or casualties, but fire crews are still searching for The Avatar…”_

She had to set her cup down for fear of it falling.

Korra would be fine, right? She’d done things like this before… right? Maybe not _explosions_ , but she’d been shot at. Asami knew the argument was a weak one, but on shaky legs, mind racing, she couldn’t bear to think of what might have happened.

She collapsed onto the couch, staring unblinkingly at the TV set. There would _have_ to be updates on Korra. Crews had to still be looking for her! But as fires were put out on screen, Asami couldn’t see anyone else venturing into the ruined building.

“Why aren’t they looking?” she cried, staring desperately at the news. “They should be—“

_Thunk thunk—CRACK._

Asami whipped her head towards the noise, towards her now cracked sliding glass door, and standing in the glow of the balcony light, bloodied forehead and hand pressed up against the glass, was the very person she’d been hoping to see on the news.

“For the love of—“ she began, all but falling off of the couch in her rush to the door. When she’d slammed it open, “ _Korra!_ ”

And she looked a _mess_ —like Asami had never seen her before. She staggered inside, and in the light Asami could get a better look at her.

She was still in her Avatar outfit, but the blue sleeveless tunic was burnt to a crisp, frayed and blackened edges crumbling as she moved. She’d taken her eye mask off, and the blast had left the marks from the mask around her eyes so the skin there was lighter and cleaner than the rest of her. A huge laceration spanned the length of her stomach, smaller ones along her jaw, her legs…

“Hey, I’m on TV,” Korra croaked in a daze, snapping Asami out of her shock. “That’s neat.”

In an instant, Asami was on damage control. Instead of focusing on how terrible Korra looked, she found herself detaching from the situation, assessing the problems, helping Korra onto the couch, shooting in and out of the bathroom for gauze, rubbing alcohol—anything she could think of to stop the bleeding, to fix her friend.

Through the flurry, it occurred to Asami that Korra’s regenerative abilities should have been kicking in. Then again, she’d never seen her hurt so bad, never seen her withstand a blast like the one she’d seen on screen. Korra had never needed help patching herself up before, and it wasn’t as if she could walk into the hospital in her Avatar outfit.

“ _Sh—Asami!_ ” Korra hissed, tensing as Asami cleaned the wound on her stomach. “Be gentle—I’m not an engine!”

“Sit _still_ and I won’t have to press so hard,” she said through clenched teeth, “If you’ve got enough energy to complain, then I’d venture to say that I’ve been doing a pretty good job so far.”

“Or maybe it’s because I’m a superhero,” she grumbled.

Asami threw the gauze on the floor, standing from where she’d been knelt beside the couch in a huff. “Why did you come over here then, Korra? To get help from me that you _obviously_ don’t need?”

Korra looked like she’d been poked between the eyes, blinking up at Asami. “I—I didn’t know where else to go! I’ve never been hurt like this!” She gestured down to her healing stomach.

Asami _knew_ how badly she’d been hurt. She _knew_ what Korra had looked like—fumbling, bloody and bewildered into her apartment. She _knew_ what she’d seen on the television. She _knew_ that she thought she’d lost Korra for the delay between the news and Korra’s journey to her balcony.

She glared down at Korra—The Avatar, her best friend—and clenched her jaw. The emotions she’d shoved down to focus on Korra’s recovery now threatened at the back of her throat, and when she spoke, her voice was thick, “I was worried about you.”

Korra’s indignant frown softened. She tried to get up, but when the pain proved too much, Asami knelt back down to her level. “I’m okay,” she said, and to hear her voice so soft and close and real, Asami felt tears well up in her eyes. “Hey, I’m okay. A little pipe bomb can’t stop me.”

Asami laughed then, a watery, hoarse one. Korra was watching her then, intently, and her hand came up against Asami’s cheek, warm and comforting. She couldn’t help but lean into the touch. “I’m glad,” she breathed.

A moment passed, and then two there—Asami felt her knees rub uncomfortably against the carpet, but the discomfort was lost as she watched Korra, and Korra watched her. It felt like an inevitability then, like she’d been winding up to the moment for an eternity. Korra’s face, so raw, so concerned, so real, was like a beacon. Something she’d been searching for that had been shining so bright right in front of her.

The tears had dried when she thought to speak again, but Korra stole the words right out of her mouth.

“I think I’m going to kiss you,” Korra said on a huff, like she’d been holding on to those words for ages.

She didn’t let Korra act first.

She had to half-hover over the couch to do it properly, but when she kissed Korra, all warm lips and that gentle hand on her cheek, she all but melted.

It started slow, then building and building with firmer presses, open mouths—Asami poured her worry into that kiss with passion, with fervor. And Korra responded in kind, her other hand coming to cup the other side of Asami’s jaw when—

“Ow, _shit!_ ”

Asami drew back instantly, and almost burst into laughter when she saw—not the grimace and the hand at her abdomen—but the inverted raccoon eyes from her mask and the ashes, coupled with newly smudged red lips. She figured she looked much the same, but the sight was still funny, a welcome break in intensity.

“Are you okay?” she asked, biting at her lip to stop the laughter.

“Yeah, I just moved wrong,” Korra grunted, turning back over on the couch. She glanced over curiously. “Why’d you go so far?”

Dirty or not, Asami knew she couldn’t resist that face. She leant back into Korra’s space. “I’m back,” she teased.

Korra grinned, and Asami felt her heart stutter at the smile and the little glance Korra made to her lips. “You know, maybe I should jump into explosions more often. If you’ll kiss me again.”

Asami rolled her eyes, but couldn’t keep the smile off her face, one of relief this time. “How about this: the more you stay _away_ from explosions, the more I kiss you.”

At that Korra leant in, stopping just short of Asami’s lips.

“For the foreseeable future, consider me _boom_ -free.”


	14. Unconditional (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: _"Asami being the overly excited parent for every little thing their child does."_

The first time their daughter had flipped herself from her back onto her stomach, Asami had wept.

Korra hadn’t known what to do—she’d been caught in the middle of moving boxes to Yasuko’s room when their little girl had used all of her infant might to heave herself around. Korra had been excited to see it, albeit preoccupied, and she’d stepped to keep moving when she caught Asami’s face.

The biggest, wateriest, most overwhelmed smile had completely frozen her face as she stared at their daughter, mascara-stained tears pouring over her cheeks.

“ _Asami?_ ”

Asami looked up slowly, near-crazed smile splitting her face, and Korra would have laughed at her next words if she hadn’t been so bewildered.

“She’s gonna be an  _acrobat._ ”

Korra dropped the boxes on her foot.

* * *

She’d thought it would happen once in a blue moon, but two days later it happened again.

“ _Korra!_ ”

She’d been outside, tossing a ball back and forth with Naga when she’d heard Asami’s yell. It had sounded urgent. Like, “ _Korra, something’s on fire”_ urgent. So she swiveled on her heel, sprinting back into the house.

“Asami? Where are you? What ha—“

The image in the dining room made her stop short.

Just as she’d looked two days prior, Asami was staring in wide-eyed wonder at their daughter, weeping her makeup off of her face because…

“She’s using the spoon!”

Korra blinked. Asami was right, Yasuko was in her high-chair, holding a purple plastic spoon in one meaty fist and trying to scoop up what looked like the previous night’s mashed yams with little precision.

Adorable. Wonderful. Easily one of the cutest things Korra had ever seen. But while Korra laughed and smiled and kissed her daughter on the head as she tried to eat, Asami just kept staring. And crying.

“Asami?” Korra asked, her excitement fading as she watched her wife. She rounded the high chair, placing her hands on Asami’s shoulders so she could direct her to the kitchen. Once they’d stopped, still within eye- and earshot of Yasuko, Korra moved her hands to Asami’s face to dry the tears with her thumbs. “What’s up? What’s going on?” she tried gently.

Asami looked over the kitchenette, watching as their daughter tried the spoon with both hands. “She’s growing so fast.”

It sounded evasive, but Korra knew she couldn’t press too hard. “She is. The best little utensil holder out there.” She tossed Asami a grin, but the weak smile she got in return made her uneasy. She reached for her wife’s hands. “I can hear you thinking.”

This earned her a chuckle. “Of course you can,” she said, looking down at where their hands were joined and then back out at their daughter. “Did I ever tell you about the first time I drove?”

“I don’t think so. What were you, ten? Eleven?”

“Four.”

“ _Four?_ ” Korra sputtered. Then, “Wait, why am I surprised? I always figured you just kind of popped out of an engine.”

Asami laughed a little louder this time. “I had a pretty average birth, thank you very much,” she joked, and Korra was happy to hear her tone lighten. “And I wasn’t  _actually_ driving, I was sitting on my mother’s lap.”

The image sounded adorable, but it was the implication that made Korra’s heart sink. She squeezed Asami’s hands, urging her to continue.

“My dad wasn’t too keen on letting me start so early, but she was… determined.” She sighed, offering a smile. “I didn’t have her long, but she was everything you could ever ask for in a mother. I just…” she trailed off, looking at their daughter again.

“You’re an incredible mother, Asami,” Korra said, unsurprised at the force in her voice. She meant it, wholeheartedly. She knew what Asami was thinking over now, why she’d been crying so much more than usual. “She’s learning so much with you. I mean, she’s five months old and she’s managing a spoon!” She squeezed her hands again, and Asami looked back at her, her expression gentle. “I may never have known your mother, but I can promise that you’re all she was and more.”

The grateful smile that brightened her entire face made Korra’s heart stutter in her chest. The soft kiss that came after made it leap.

“Thank you,” Asami murmured against her lips, “I needed that.”

“Anytime, love. You know I’m with you for the long run. We kind of have a kid together.”

“Oh,  _do_  we? I wasn’t—“ From the dining room, Yasuko cut her mother off, shrieking with what sounded like delight. “—aware.”

They looked over the kitchenette together. In her high chair, Yasuko was banging on the table with her spoon, face covered in mashed yams and a massive toothless grin.

“Yeah, we do. She’s a big fan of yams and she’s got the two best moms anyone could ask for.”

Asami gave her another gentle smile and a kiss as they went to scrape yam off the walls and their giggling daughter.


	15. Sun in the Morning (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From Perpetual159: _"In canon universe: Korra quietly enjoys watching Asami getting ready for work every morning. Whether Asami knows this is going on is up to you :)"_
> 
> The title is a Future Islands [song](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdVPxDmt2pA).

For their first few years together, life kept picking up speed.

Some days, Korra felt as if things were happening so quickly around her that they hadn’t been happening at all.

The days she could remember, when prompted, were the big, happy ones. Zhu Li’s inauguration, Mako’s promotion to detective, Opal and Bolin’s engagement, Future Industries’ ground-breaking ceremony—but everything in-between was a blur.

Everything, except the mornings.

She could recall almost every single morning as if the images had been stamped into her memory in ink. She remembered them because she was with Asami.

It wasn’t as if anything particularly miraculous was going on. Of course, Korra treasured getting to wake up beside Asami, wrapped up with her, clothed or not—whatever the case, she always woke happy.

When Asami rose before her (which was  _often_ ) Korra made it a point to watch her as she swept through the room, getting ready for the day.

There were days when Asami dreaded going into work. Korra knew this without having to ask because Asami’s routine slowed to a crawl. She’d curl into Korra’s side, sometimes believing her to be asleep, sometimes waking her up with a kiss or four, but it would take a good amount of shifting and sighing before she rolled out of bed. She’d amble into the bathroom, trudge back out after a shower, come back to the bed for a few more lingering kisses, and extricate herself with such reluctance, Korra could see it in the way she moved her limbs.

There were other, fortunately more frequent days when Asami was excited to go into work. Those were the factory days, Korra knew, because Asami had told her about them with such passion and fervor that Korra could even remember the names of the doohickeys she’d be working with.

Those good days started with a quick kiss, and Asami was up. Korra would find herself dozing while Asami left for the bathroom, but the reopening of the door always functioned as an alarm because Asami would saunter back into the room in a towel that sometimes didn’t close right at the front, or didn’t cover her at  _all_ , draped around her neck instead.

Asami would smirk at her on those days. “Always wide awake after my shower, aren’t you?”

Korra would grin and stretch. “Of course. You’ve got such nice legs.”

“At least you’re honest.”

After the shower, Asami would change and—this part Korra loved to watch—put her makeup on.

It wasn’t that she didn’t like Asami without it. For years, Korra had tried to see if it was at all possible for Asami to look  _bad_ , and since then she’d seen her: after running an actual marathon, hunched over a toilet, passed out on the kitchen floor, sick with dragon flu, and in every single one of those situations she was still gorgeous.

The thing was, Korra loved watching Asami at work. And she treated makeup like she treated an engine or a blueprint—with careful and dedicated focus.

Korra didn’t understand what all of the creams she used did, but she knew that the one with the blue lid went first, followed by liquid on a cotton ball, followed by the one with the green lid. Asami would meet her eyes in the mirror as she let her face dry, and Korra made it a point to give her at  _least_  one goofy smile a day. Many of those smiles passed between the mirror on the vanity.

When Asami set to work on her face, the press of her fingers against her cheeks, the strokes of brushes along her cheekbones, different brushes on her eyes, the cut of her jawline—Korra felt like she was watching an artist. And really, Asami  _was_  an artist. With the intricacies of mechanics, of course, but also with a touch of rouge, a swipe of deep red lipstick, or the precise glide of her eyeliner.

After her powder, Korra would watch her tease her hair out and run her fingers through dark locks, just as Korra loved to do.

It was a marvel—the process. It was otherworldly once she’d finished.

She’d always move to return to Korra, sit on the edge of the bed in exactly the same place every time and ask, for nothing but the novelty, “How do I look?”

Every morning prior, Korra had just smiled and drawn her down for a kiss, answering by way of explaining. During the morning in question, however, as Korra lay naked under the sheets, heart thumping in her chest, she responded with the line she’d been rehearsing and a flick of her wrist from under her pillow.

“Like the woman I want to spend the rest of my life with.”

Asami blinked down at the ring in Korra’s hand, and then back up at her. For a terrible moment, Korra’s stomach twisted itself into knots, watching as Asami just stared at her. In the next moment, however, she’d been tackled back into the sheets, suddenly covered in lipstick and a not-so-clothed girlfr—fiancé…?

“ _Yes!_ ”

Fiancé.

Yes, Korra remembered the mornings well.


	16. Kappa Alpha (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From an anon: " _Korra and Asami hooking up, but they're rivals (in sports, in college sororities, in high school social hierarchy, etc..._ "

“This is some _Romeo and Juliet_ shit.”

“Which one are you?” Asami asked, shifting away from the edge of the carseat.

“Romeo. The Montegues are blue and I—“ She pointed to her discarded underwear, hanging over the front headrest, “Wear a lot of blue.”

Asami was silent for a moment, and when Korra looked down at her, green eyes were squinted in disbelief.

“Sparknotes,” Korra conceded.

Asami’s face smoothed. “There we go,” she hummed, satisfied, laying back against Korra’s chest. “But that was only in the movie. The play never mentioned different colors.”

“Again, Sparknotes,” Korra insisted, “that I didn’t pay much attention to.”

“How you passed that class is beyond me.” She patted Korra’s chest. “I have the utmost faith in you, but I got a _lot_ of pictures of you asleep at the desk from Bolin… Most of which I kept.”

“Blackmail,” Korra hummed, tangling her fingers in Asami’s hair as she drew her closer.

 _Blackmail_ , coincidentally, would be exactly what someone might have if they found the two of them naked in the backseat of Asami’s car. Not because of the situation at hand, but because of the background. Their separate sororities might have had a _small_ problem with members of their respective e-boards sleeping with each other. There was another _small_ problem regarding the relationship of said sororities. In a word: _bad_.

But they had always been careful. Problem was, Korra didn’t _want_ to be. She wanted to hoist Asami into the air atop the tallest building on campus and profess her love for all the world to hear. All the university, probably.

“What are you thinking?”

“Hm?” Korra mumbled, feigning ignorance. “Oh, just about chapter next week.”

It was a bad lie, but even if it hadn’t been, Asami would have probably said the same, “Okay. And I’m an elephant.” Korra sighed at that, knowing she’d lost. “So, what are you thinking?”

“Same thing I always think,” she grumbled.

Asami’s hand was on her cheek then, turning it to face her. They stared at each other for a long moment, and Korra had all but forgotten her frustration in Asami’s eyes, ready to get back to kissing and touching and—

“I’m going to disaffiliate.”

Korra was sure she’d blacked out for a second.

“ _What?_ ” she sputtered, “Asami—I know I talk about it a lot, but you don’t have to—for me—I just—“

“It’s not for you,” Asami interrupted, firm but gentle. “Well, maybe a little. But it’s _also_ because I’m in love and I’d choose the way I feel over some letters any day.”

Even though they’d been doing this for well over a year, Korra’s heart always skipped a beat when she heard Asami say it. She leaned in for a kiss—hard, open, and long enough for Asami to roll on top of her.

When they parted, Korra had to ask, “Are you sure?”

Asami kissed her again. “Positive. I joined for friends, and I made friends. The ones worth keeping will stick around, sorority or not.”

The toothy grin that spread across Korra’s face brought a similar one out in Asami. The course of action became so immediately clear in Korra’s mind, she blurted it without a second’s thought, “I’m leaving too.”

Asami frowned. “You don’t have to,” she said, “Only one of us—“

She cut her off with a kiss. “Nope. Decided. Don’t care about it anymore.”

Asami watched her for a moment, eyes studying her own. Then she shrugged. “You’re serious. Okay. No more sisterhood.”

It sounded horrible, but the admission lifted a weight from her chest she hadn’t known she was carrying.

She snorted. “This is _so_ Romeo and Juliet.”

“We’re not killing ourselves, Korra.”

“Social suicide. It’s similar.”

Asami rolled her eyes, but Korra didn’t miss the smile. She didn’t miss the kiss, either.


	17. Lights Out (G)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Written for Korrasami Week_
> 
>  
> 
> _Day 2: Affection_

She’s three-quarters of the way through her tea when the power goes out.

She’d known it was coming. The wind’s howling, rain coming down in catdeer and polar bear dogs and Korra curses the brand-new electric stove Asami’s just invented and installed. She’s got her bending, sure, but she’d wanted to bake a pie.

There’s no reason for the pie, she’d just wanted a pie.  _So sue me,_ she thinks to herself, listening to the rain pound against the sheets of metal she’d bent over all three hundred windows of Asami’s mansion. There’s not three hundred windows, but it had certainly felt like there were.

A sigh comes from the hall, and Asami’s padding into the kitchen with a candle and a frown.

“I was in the middle of something.”

Korra heats the second cup of tea she’d made between her hands before responding. “Big project?”

“ _Projects,_ ” Asami grumbles, holding her candle up so she can see the outstretched mug. Korra can’t see her face as well as she might like, but she can hear the smile in her voice. “Thank you, love.”

Asami sets the candle aside and sits down beside her, and when they settle into near-darkness, Korra gets hit with a ton of bricks. A metaphorical ton of bricks—the roof is sound—she  _hopes_  the roof is sound.

“When was the last time we did this?”

“When was the las time we… what? We sat in the dark?”

“No, no—when was the last time we had over an hour together?”

At this, Asami pauses. “No… it—it can’t have been  _that_  long. Didn’t we…”

But Asami doesn’t think of anything. Any stolen moments, any days off, any…  _anything._  Korra wracks her brain, but the fact remains: the cyclone outside is the unassuming catalyst in bringing them together. Korra finds that she’s thrilled.

“You’re right,” Asami hums, “I’ve… wow, I’ve missed this.”

Asami sets her tea by the candle, its flame already waning, and curls into Korra’s side on the couch. She wraps her arms around her shoulders, marveling at how the feeling is almost foreign. This calm isn’t something either has had in ages, and even though something large slams into the side of the house, and the wind whips around them and Korra can make out the distinct sound of a tree uprooting, she’s happier than she’s been in months.

“I’ve missed  _you_ ,” Korra mumbles into Asami’s hair, breathing in the smell of her shampoo. It smells like flowers or fruit or something soft and amazing, but it’s been so long since she’s had the chance to really notice it.

“I’ve missed you too. I’ve missed how comfy you are,” Asami says into her chest, and something outside bangs against the metal on the windows. It might be one of the topiaries. Korra doesn’t care.

When Asami runs her fingers along Korra’s arm, it’s a shock to the system because she remembers very vividly when she’d last felt this exact sensation.

“The turtle-duck boat.”

She feels Asami suck in a breath—the way she does when she’s made a breakthrough or when she loses a shard of eggshell in her breakfast. “It’s been  _that_  long?”

The night out had been almost six months before, and even then, they’d had to deal with the press and the public, and they’d had about three and a half moments of peace when someone leapt into the lake to try and get their attention. Since then, it’s been nonstop, and Korra hasn’t had the  _time_  to realize how exhausted she is, or how little time she’s spent with the single greatest thing in her life. All realizations are criminally unfair, and she makes an executive decision: they’re cuddling on the couch until the storm passes.

“Do you know what this means?” Korra asks, shifting so they can lie down on the couch, Asami comfortably pressed against her side. “We can finally use your emergency preparedness kit.”

Asami  _gasps_ , “My EPK! I  _told_  you it’d be useful.”

“Is there really an acronym?” Korra chuckles, because knowing Asami means knowing about three thousand acronyms, and Korra would rather take the five extra seconds to say the whole title instead of getting the GPS or the FPS or the whatever-whatever mixed up and handing Asami the wrong kind of tool in her workshop. When Asami doesn’t respond to the question, she knows that no one uses the acronym except for Asami.

 _“It saves time!”_  she’d said.

 _“What time?”_  Korra had replied.

But now that they’re together again, a catastrophic storm giving them precious little time together, maybe Korra understands the importance of time-saving acronyms better.

For a long moment, they both just lay there, and Korra’s so caught up in how wonderful it feels to be together, that she’s dozing off when Asami shoots off of her in what seems to be a panic, startling her completely awake.

“ _Wha—what?_ ” she grunts, noticing that not only has the candle gone out, but Asami is nowhere to be seen. “Asami?”

“I’m getting the Paid Sho board!” Asami’s voice comes from the hallway. Thing is, she hasn’t taken a light, or her firebending girlfriend, and while the storm is banging things around  _outside_ , she hears Asami stumble into several different pieces of furniture and other—“ _Ow!_ ”—household implements.

Her return journey is safer, and Korra figures out the reason when Asami reappears in the living room with the Paid Sho board  _and_  her EPP—EPS—EPG—the  _kit_. The emergency preparedness kit. She’s holding a flashlight from the kit aloft, and Korra can make out the satisfied grin on her face as she sets up on the coffee table.

“Come on, we haven’t played in  _ages_.”

“You haven’t  _swept the floor with me_ in ages.”

“Exactly. Now, sit.”

Korra obliges, and proceeds to be used as a mop. She’s not quite sure why Asami likes playing Pai Sho with her. She’s competitive, sure, but she’s never been able to beat her girlfriend, and Asami knows this. She also knows that no one will ever beat her, no matter how “close” Bolin says he’s come.

They’re halfway through the first game when she feels something on her calf. For the moment, she ignores it, using a flame in her hand to see the tiles whose functions she has a very loose grip upon. There’s the… jasmine tile— _maybe—_ and it might help her—no, that’s not it. Her hand hovers above the board, reaching for a tile when she feels the sensation on her calf again. She frowns at the board, then up at Asami, who’s watching her with innocent eyes and her head propped up on one hand.

“You’re being distracting.”

“Who,  _me?_ ” Asami asks, mock-incredulous. The sensation on her calf travels down to her foot. “You can’t possibly be talking about  _me_.”

Korra continues to frown at her, but really, she can’t be mad when her girlfriend has a face like  _that_. They lock eyes for a moment longer, and Korra turns back to the board, trying to focus when the sensation is back. It is the sensation of a foot, and it is on  _her_  foot, and she’s already bad enough at this game,  _why_  does Asami have to be so cute and so distracting and  _why is she playing footsie at a time like this?_

Korra may be terrible at Pai Sho, but she is the Footsie Master. Asami knows this. Asami is digging her grave.

Making it obvious that she’s glancing over the board for show, and decidedly not looking Asami’s way, Korra inches her foot along Asami’s. She feigns choosing a tile, but the move is just an ingenious cover for her foot’s path under the coffee table. Asami, who by the grace of the spirits does not have all of her focus on what’s happening under the table, is  _just_  unaware enough to not realize Korra’s plan until it’s too late.

In one swift movement, she grabs hold of Asami’s bare foot, tickling it expertly and earning a shriek from her girlfriend who’s now trapped between the coffee table and Korra’s merciless fingers.

“You  _traitor!_ ” Asami cries, wheezing with laughter and trying desperately to get away. “I thought you loved me!”

“I could never love a cheat!”

It’s many minutes of struggling and screaming and laughing in the darkness before Korra decides that, One: she’s been kicked in the shin, and Two: Asami has given up the fight and is lying prone on the floor, panting and huffing Korra’s treachery.

Worn out, but giddy in a way she instantly realizes she’s been missing, she shoves the stupid emergency kit aside and lies down beside Asami on the floor, staring up at the dark ceiling high above. Then, Asami’s hand is warm in hers, and she turns to see that Asami’s already watching her. It’s hard to see in the near-darkness, but somehow that smile of hers always seems to glow.

“I needed that,” Asami says, and Korra gives her hand a long squeeze in response. “You’re the only person I can be this stupid around. And I barely see you.”

The mood shifts at that. Korra hears the longing she’s been feeling in her chest in Asami’s voice. She turns, propping herself up on her arm and taking Asami’s hand again with her other one. “How about we change that?”

“Are you going to start cyclones just for me, Avatar?”

“You know I would,” Korra deadpans.

It takes two tries, but Asami leans up for a kiss that’s equal parts soft and warm and Korra forgets about the storm and her obligations and her  _name_  for a long moment. When Asami pulls back, Korra’s more than a little dazed.

“You were saying?” Asami prompts, still close enough to feel the tickle of her breath.

“ _Hm?_  Oh—just that… that we’ll find time for each other. We’ll find a way.”

The sentiment is a little lackluster, but it’s genuine, and so is the goofy smile that’s plastered on her face. Something large hits the side of the house outside, and while it might be a tree or another destructive projectile, Korra can’t bring herself to care when Asami leans in again.

“We always do,” she says, effectively ending Korra’s statement and thought processes with one press of her lips.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Blame Hurricane Irma.


	18. Creatures of the Night (T)

“This is stupid,” said Mako, feeling stupid. “This is so _stupid_.”

It wasn’t the first time he’d been roped into an activity at his friends’ request. Wasn’t even the first time he’d worn fishnet stockings. The previous time wasn’t something he’d ever want to relive, but at least he’d been at the bottom of his tenth (or maybe twelfth, he hadn’t been keeping track) shot of hard liquor. He’d been ready then, and more than willing to wrestle on the ill-fitting pair that Opal had divested at some point during the evening.

Wobbling down the frighteningly crowded street, a good five feet behind his friends, he was stone-cold sober. Not only that, but he’d managed to draw the short straw, and found himself as the unwilling designated driver who, _one_ : could not walk in heels, and _two_ : could not _drive_ in heels. No matter how many times Asami assured him that both feats were a cakewalk, Mako figured that, had he been involved in an _actual_ cakewalk, he would have fallen on his ass in much the same fashion as he had when he’d first donned the six-inch deathtraps.

“Can you guys just—“ He stumbled on nothing, barely managing to keep his footing on flat concrete. “Just _slow down!”_

“Yeah, bro!” Bolin called back, not turning around, not slowing down, doing nary a goddamn thing to help Mako as he tried desperately not to collapse and break every bone in his body. Knowing his brother, Bolin probably hadn’t heard a single word.

_Selective listening_ , Bolin had called it. _Being a piece of shit_ , Mako had replied.

He staggered the last block to their destination, almost running into Opal when they’d finally stopped. She grabbed his shoulder to stabilize him. “You okay there?” she laughed, “You look a little… unstable.”

“I _am_ unstable. I can’t walk in these damn things,” he said, scowling. “How do you do it?”

“Practice,” Opal replied simply. “But I’m only wearing pumps tonight—Asami’s the heel master.”

Mako grunted. “She said it was easy.”

“For her. She’s had the practice,” Opal regarded him calmly. “They do wonders for your calves, though.”

“ _Great_.”

Maybe they did, but Mako was a lot more interested in sitting down for the remainder of the night, kicking the heels off, and setting them on fire. But there was just _something_ about the whole situation that made him think that he might not be finding any semblance of comfort for quite some time. Was it the line of scantily-clad people he was standing in? Maybe. Or perhaps the fact that the only person in their group wearing pants was Bolin? Quite possibly. Maybe it was the glare from Korra’s _golden underwear_ that had him inadvertently staring at her ass every few seconds. A definite maybe.

Everything about the night was uncomfortable. He was groped several times by several different men when they finally got their tickets, walking down a dimly lit corridor. Whether the groping was intentional or not, he wasn’t sure. What he _was_ sure about was that he’d just stumbled into a theatre full of half-naked people.

A man wearing nothing but a skirt grabbed his ass and walked off like it hadn’t happened.

_Stupid_.

 

* * *

 

Bolin couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so excited.

Yes there was fake blood in his eye, and the liberal application of hairspray hadn’t worked for long, but his torn leather vest was badass and his fake plastic saxophone was badass and Opal was sitting next to him with no pants on and everything was just _badass_.

And if things couldn’t get any more badass, Asami emptied a purse full of mini liquor bottles on to Korra’s lap, and Korra (the saint) took the liberty of distributing them to the group. Sans Mako, of course, who was sitting like a grump beside Bolin, arms crossed over his corset.

“Come on bro, lighten up!” he laughed, patting Mako’s arm reassuringly. “Tonight’s gonna be awesome!”

Mako gave him the Mako Look and while looking about as uncomfortable as was humanly possible, he also wasn’t going to ruin Bolin’s good mood. And his mood got even better because Opal gave him a kiss on the cheek, and another one on the lips and someone screamed at the top of their lungs down in front and threw handfuls of candy in the air, some of which Korra caught and passed out.

He was on his fifth peanut butter cup when the lights dimmed, and the entire theatre erupted in screams.

Opal grabbed him by the shoulders, shaking him bodily and screaming, and Bolin was not about to let his girlfriend scream louder than him. He howled, wrapping an arm around sulking Mako who allowed Bolin manhandle him until a couple hundred people sang in unison.

 

* * *

 

Mako was sick and tired of this designated driver shit.

Bolin and Opal were sharing their fifth? _Sixth?_ Mini bottle of rum and Korra and Asami had each downed like, a lot, and Mako had to sit and watch while Korra and Bolin hoisted their respective girlfriends up in the air, yelling the words to a song Mako could barely _hear_ let alone _understand_.

He was trying to focus on the movie because he _definitely_ didn’t want to be involved in whatever the hell was going on around him, but the four of them kept calling the character they’d dressed him up as an “asshole” every few minutes, so trying to pay attention to the convoluted plot was out of the question.

“My _hero!”_

Mako blinked at the screen, whipping toward a voice that had appeared to his side. There, in lingerie very similar to his own, was a thin man in a blonde wig and heavy makeup. He blew Mako a kiss.

“There she is!” was Bolin’s enthusiastic reply from behind him. “Come sit with your fiancé, he was getting lonely!”

It seemed that Mako’s voice had ceased to function, but he could still glare at Bolin with every ounce of ire he had left in his body.

At Bolin’s prompting, the man slid in beside Mako and grabbed one of his arms. “The _perfect_ specimen of manhood!” he exclaimed, somehow leaving Mako even more speechless than he’d already been.

It was around the time Korra had hoisted Asami on her shoulders and taken a lap around the theatre, grunting and yelling and getting a rise out of the entire audience, that Mako gave up entirely. He’d tried to understand the movie, he’d tried to politely decline the man still clinging to his arm, he’d tried to read the program and get involved, but it seemed as if he’d hit that final stage of grief.

He waved his feather boa around in time with the music.

 

* * *

 

When Mako had finally escaped the theatre, shoving his way through a mass of sweaty, scantily-clad people, he could have wept with joy.

“What happened to your fiancé, Mako?” was Korra’s first question. He turned to see his brother and friends leaning heavily against each other, giggling and having had a much better time than him. “She was beautiful!”

He frowned at her, which only served in making her giggle harder, snorting into Asami’s shoulder.

“Admit it, bro, you had a great time! I saw you flipping that boa around!”

He hadn’t. He had _not_ had a great time. But his friends were in good moods, and even though his heels had sliced up his feet, and none of them were stable enough to help him back to the car—he wasn’t going to ruin the night.

“Sure, Bo. It was a lot of fun.”

They all cheered, crowding around him. Asami threw an arm over his shoulder, not needing as much support as his other friends. “Thanks for coming with us, Mako. I know _decadence_ isn’t really your thing,” she said, patting his shoulder with one hand and supporting her stumbling girlfriend with the other.

Mako shrugged and swerved, narrowly missing a sewer grate. “I wouldn’t let you drive home like this.”

Asami nodded, a strange combination of sageness and drunkenness. She opened her mouth to speak again, but just then, Bolin started wailing the song from the beginning of the film, and it seemed that she had to sing along.

Science fiction, _maybe_ , but a _double feature?_ No. He’d barely survived the one.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started writing this two years ago when I first got involved with Rocky Horror, and after six performances, I finally decided to finish it.
> 
> Happy Halloween y'all!


	19. Late Night (E)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Happy Korrasamiversary!
> 
> FYI, this is just more formulaic smut. Sorry. It seems I'm incapable of writing anything of substance anymore. (I wrote this a long time ago, so maybe I've _never_ been able to lmao)

When she opens the front door, Asami finds that her apartment feels just like her chest. It’s dark and it’s empty, but unlike her chest, there’s a light flashing red on her voicemail—one missed call.   
  
_Beep—_ "Guess what movie I picked up today?” Korra's out of tune singsong voice comes through the speaker. "I'm holding it and my car keys in my hand and I _better_ get a call back, Asami. I need to see these explosions!" _Click._   
  
She almost smiles as she calls her back. Almost. Being alone isn't going to solve her problems.  
  
"Korra?"  
  
She yawns before answering. "Hey, I didn't think you'd call back. Done with work?"  
  
"Yeah,” she pauses. "Come over. Please."  
  
She must notice her tone, because she suddenly sounds way more awake. "Give me half an hour."  
  
The line goes silent, and she knows she'll have half an hour to her thoughts. Exactly twenty-six minutes later, there's a knock on her door. She pushes herself off of the couch, realizes with a start that both of her legs are asleep, and stumbles to the door. 

She's there, in the doorway. Tape in one hand, plastic bag in the other. A bad movie, food, and wine. Korra knows her too well. They set up on the couch, and she's brought her favorite—orange chicken and thick noodles. This time, Asami smiles. Korra pours her a glass of wine and smiles back. "We're going to have fun. And you're going to forget about whatever's going on in your head. Whatever you need from me, just ask."  
  
Asami turns away and nods as tears well up in her eyes. The void in her chest might not get filled up with fried food, but Korra's company might just help. Korra flips on the movie and shifts closer to her so their legs are pressed up against each other. 

It's a horrible movie. Korra is entirely too involved in the explosions, and Asami tries not to laugh as she leans closer to the screen. “Wow! Did you see that— _what?_ You're laughing at me!"  
  
She shoves the laughter back into her throat. "Nope."  
  
"Liar,” she growls and pops a piece of Asami's chicken into her mouth, chewing pointedly.  
  
She smacks her arm because how _dare_ she take Asami Sato's special orange chicken, and Korra responds the only way she knows how. "No—Korra!" she yelps and isn't quite able to make it out of her strong grasp before she starts mercilessly tickling her sides. "I hate you!" she cries through a fit of giggles, writhing around on the couch, trying everything she can manage to push Korra away. Unfortunately for her, Korra is very dense, and her efforts are not helping in the least. "Get _off!_ ”  
  
They're tangled on the couch when Korra finally decides that she's done being an asshole. She tries to pull away, but Asami tugs her back down.  
  
"Mmph," Korra grunts into her shoulder, and then turns to murmur into her neck, "You okay?"  
  
"No," she replies, trying not to visibly shiver with Korra's breath on her neck. “Just stay with me."  
  
"You got it,” Korra situates them so they're lying side by side, and she presses a lingering kiss to the crown of Asami's head. It warms the emptiness in her chest. "Anything you want to talk about?"  
  
Her fingers curl in the material of Korra's shirt. "No. Not yet. Just help me drink all of the alcohol in this apartment."  
  
Korra doesn't ask any more questions, just does as she's instructed, and by the time they've finished the wine bottles, they're both flushed and giggling and leaning against each other and while the void in Asami's chest hasn't quite dissipated, she feels a whole lot lighter.  
  
"You know what my first impression of you was?"  
  
She snuggles closer into Korra's side. She's always so warm. "I can only imagine."  
  
"You were hitting on Mako. I kinda wanted to strangle you,” she says, and Asami snorts. "But then I saw you, like I really _saw_ you—and I wanted to be mad, but I realized then that I'd somehow managed to run into the most beautiful woman in the known universe. Then I couldn't be mad."  
  
It might just be the alcohol, but Asami feels her face heating up. "Korra—"  
  
"I mean it. Like—I kept trying to tell myself that there was _something_ wrong with you. Like maybe you were secretly a jerk, or that you kicked puppies in your free time or something, but then we started talking and it was just—perfect."  
  
It's a long time coming, it really is, but Asami's drunk and she can't take the time to think about consequences. She cups Korra's jaw so she can turn her to look at her. Her blue eyes are wide and searching and then Asami moves forward to kiss her—short and sweet and a little sloppy, but she pulls away before Korra can react. "Sorry,” she breathes when Korra looks like she's about to explode. "...I had to."  
  
And then— _then_ Korra's face breaks out into a huge grin and she leans forward and they're kissing again, slow and deliberate. Asami smiles against her lips and she feels Korra smile back. The next time they part, all flushed faces and heavy breaths, Korra's hovering over her, eyes bright. "I don't know what's bothering you," she begins, and presses a soft kiss to Asami's forehead, "but I hope you don't mind if I try to kiss it away."  
  
"You're going to kiss my boo-boos, Korra?" Asami giggles, and she's consumed entirely too much alcohol to understand what this all means. Her voice is softer when she says, "All of them?"  
  
"All of them. But you have to tell me where they are first."  
  
Asami smiles, and she hopes it doesn't look too sad, because she doesn't feel like she _can_ be too sad with Korra pressed against her like this. She disentangles her fingers from their place threaded in Korra's fluffy hair, and presses her palm against her chest, right above where her heart is. "Most of them are in here."  
  
Korra doesn't miss a beat. She shifts her weight so she can pull Asami's hand away and leans down to press a tender kiss against the thin material of her shirt, right where her hand was. Asami can feel the heat of her lips, soft and loving. "What about the rest?"  
  
Asami isn't drunk enough to not recognize the fact that Korra is being unbearably sweet, but she's had a rough, merciless day, and she really just wants to keep kissing the woman above her. She moves her hand so she can press a finger against her lips. "Here."  
  
Again, Korra obliges without question, pressing their lips together with a softness Asami feels through her entire body. She hums against Korra's lips, and the other woman smiles into the kiss in return. It's languid and sweet and less than precise, but Asami threads her fingers into Korra's hair, tilting her head to deepen it, thoroughly enjoying the noise Korra makes when she does. It's a long and welcome distraction, but the heat spreading everywhere at the kisses is another one, and when they part for air, Asami takes the opportunity to ghost her lips along Korra's jawline to her ear, letting the alcohol do the work from there.  
  
"I want you," she breathes, and the stunted breath Korra takes in spreads the heat even wider and lower. She’s almost shocked that she’s actually _said_ that, after thinking it for so long.  
  
"Fuck," is the response, and her voice is shaky and rough and desperate and Asami knows that she'll need to hear it like that again and again. "Are... are you sure?"  
  
“ _Yes_ , Korra," she says, and bites down on her new lover's earlobe, which in turn sends a quivery little whimper tumbling out of Korra's lips. Their proximity makes it so Asami can feel the noise against her skin, and she cants her hips up for friction. “ _Please_.”  
  
Korra lets out another one of those whimpers, but angles her thigh against the building heat between Asami's own, and the pressure makes her moan much louder than she anticipates doing. Korra follows this up by rocking hard against her, and thick muscle against pulsing tension is exactly what Asami needs.  
  
“ _Yes_ , Korra,” Asami finds herself sighing, and she's never really been vocal during sex, but she's also never had sex with Korra (a tragedy, really) and the alcohol in her system has allowed for a little more freedom and a lack of shame.  
  
Korra responds to the encouragement, rocking harder still, placing enough pressure to start a coil of pleasure building deep in Asami's core. She loves the feel of Korra moving against her, but finds that she wants to feel those muscles working as well. Korra's tank top is loose, and Asami uses that small blessing to slide a hand underneath, failing to mask the hum that matches Korra's own when she feels hard muscle shift under her fingertips.  
  
"You're so good, Korra," she finds herself gasping appreciatively against her new lover's neck, stroking hot, firm skin as the coil pulls tighter and tighter. "You're going to make me come."  
  
And if it were any other person in any other situation, Asami would have been so ashamed of that admission, but Korra moans unabashedly and her breath is so stunted when she gasps an "Oh my god," that Asami can't feel anything other than blinding arousal. The admission hadn't only been for encouragement, because she hadn't been lying. Korra's insistent rocking grows more deliberate, and not only can she feel her orgasm creeping up with every fueling breath, she also is afforded the luxury of feeling Korra's heat against her own leg where it’s bent between Korra’s thighs. Korra's head rests against Asami's shoulder where she pants with the heavy exertion of the movements and the pull of excitement, but as Asami feels her body begin to buzz, and her breaths begin to push her closer and closer, she tugs at Korra's hair with the hand that's not under her shirt.  
  
She’s desperate in a way she can’t ever remember being. She tries all she can to make that need clear when she speaks on a hard breath. “I need… I need to kiss you," she manages, almost beyond words.  
  
Korra lifts her head up and Asami almost loses it at the sight of her eyes, half-lidded and dark with pleasure; her lips, full and parted; and her gaze, so intense Asami wants to drown herself in it, wants to know nothing else. So she pulls Korra to her, finding the younger woman's lips with a moan, and it's the languid, drawling heat in the kiss that Korra gives her that shoves her right up to the edge of her orgasm. All she has to do is pull in a desperate breath and let that delicious tension fuel that final set of rocks against her core.  
  
When she comes, her mouth opens in a silent scream as the pleasure blooms, low in her belly, and as wave over wave of ecstasy ripples out through her body, the thought that this is _Korra_ above her, _Korra_ making her come—ramps up the intensity tenfold. She can't hold in the sharp cry that's muffled against Korra's mouth as she rounds the apex of her orgasm, arched back falling against the couch as Korra draws the final, deep beats of pleasure from her pliant body.  
  
“ _Fuck_ ," she gasps, overly-sensitive on the last push against her core. "Oh my _god_ , Korra."  
  
Korra kisses her then, fully, fiercely, and Asami doesn't have time to be overwhelmed by the afterglow of her orgasm, because she's instantly overwhelmed by the intensity of Korra's kiss. The length of her body comes down against Asami's, and Asami has never known how much she'd needed to feel _all_ of Korra until she _does_.  
  
"Asami," Korra mumbles between kisses, and the way her name sounds on Korra's lips sends another jolt between her thighs. Already, she wants more. Korra moves to her neck, sucking at the sensitive skin there before speaking. "That was so hot."  
  
She laughs, because it's unexpected and it's Korra, but the laughter only serves to increase her desire. "You're next," she says on a huff of laughter, ghosting her hand down to the edge of Korra's sweats.  
  
"What do you need me to do?" Korra asks, resuming her soft kisses against Asami's neck.   
  
"I need you to get these damn pants off," Asami grumbles, failing to make any headway with their bodies pressed so close together.  
  
Korra laughs against her neck, and she can't repress the violent shiver and the way her muscles tense at that feeling. "You like that?" Korra mumbles, picking up on the reaction.  
  
"Korra, it's _your_ turn," she insists with a smile, shoving at the stubborn pants. "Get your pants off."  
  
Again, Korra laughs, but she lifts her hips enough for Asami to shove her sweats and her underwear halfway down her thighs with both hands, and when that's done, she immediately grabs at her ass. "Excuse you, ma'am," Korra chuckles, grinning against Asami's cheek as she kneads at the flesh. "What do you think you're doing?"  
  
"Feeling you up," Asami says, matter of factly, "You've got such a nice butt,” As if to further showcase that fact, Korra flexes the muscles there, and Asami hums appreciatively when she does. " _God_ , you've got such a nice butt."

“I guess that’s why you come to the gym with me, huh?”

Asami hums her confirmation, remembering the way Korra looks in a pair of compression shorts, and then realizing that she doesn’t ever have to settle for just a _look_ again, because her hands are on the real thing. As she thinks this, she feels Korra shift atop her, wiggling out of her pants so she can straddle Asami’s waist. And oh, if it’s not the most wonderful sight Asami has ever seen. She scoots back, half-leaning on the armrest for a better look, and Korra follows, watching Asami carefully.

Asami doesn’t want to waste another moment, so admiring turns to teasing, and she presses her hands against Korra’s firm stomach, alternating between light scratches and firm presses. She traces Korra’s sides and her hips so delicately and Korra’s hands fist where they’re idle at her sides as Asami rakes her nails across her hipbones, and then through dark curls further down. Korra’s response is a hiss, and Asami repeats the action, earning herself a rock of Korra’s hips, desperately seeking lower pressure from her hand.

And far be it for her to say no to Korra, verbally or not.

“ _Asami,_ ” Korra sighs on a breath as Asami’s fingers find their way into hot silk, testing with gentle glides and presses. She wants her name on Korra’s lips again, wants to afford Korra the pleasure she’d just had, so her fingers find the hard bundle of nerves, pressing through a tight circle that makes Korra shudder, mouth agape, eyes shut tight. 

The way Korra responds to those first simple touches tells Asami that her lover won’t be lasting long. The thought makes her exceedingly proud, and happy that she’d been able to turn Korra on as much as she’d been—as she still _is_ , if the way her underwear is sticking to her is any indication. So, she slides her middle finger down, circling Korra’s entrance, asking for permission. She doesn’t get it verbally, but Korra rocks her hips down, trying to take the digit inside. Asami won’t deny her that.

She buries one finger easily, and the expression that crosses Korra’s face—utter relief—gives her the confidence for another. “ _Yes,_ ” is the response to the second, and before she can begin to move, Korra does for her. In all honestly, Asami can’t ever remember seeing anything more perfect than the picture before her, Korra, grinding down on her fingers with an urgency that makes Asami ache for more. So she angles her palm so that there’s enough room for her other thumb to find Korra’s clit. “ _Fuck,_ ” Korra gasps at the sensation, one hand gripping the back of the couch and the other tangled in the material of Asami’s shirt.

Her face is the most beautiful thing Asami has ever seen, drawn in pleasure—pleasure _she’s_ giving. It’s almost dreamlike, because this scene has played out in her dreams enough times to be etched right into her memories. She doesn’t need the dreams anymore, because the real thing is mostly naked above her now, riding her hand towards a climax Asami will give to her. _Jesus Christ,_ she thinks, and it’s apt, because this feels like a holy experience.

“Good?” Asami finds herself asking on a ragged breath, knowing the answer but wanting to hear it from Korra directly.

Korra’s eyes flutter open, but they’re half-lidded when she looks down at Asami, and _god_ that _look_ sends liquid heat right to her core. “ _So_ good,” Korra manages, nodding and offering her a smile that’s weak with pleasure. The grinding of her hips becomes arrhythmic, and she closes her eyes again, jaw slack.

Asami is infinitely happy for her position because yes, she can feel Korra’s muscles begin to flutter around her fingers, but she’s also afforded the luxury of getting to watch her come undone above her. All of the tension leaves Korra’s face, seeping its way into her body as she goes rigid, tightening around Asami’s still-pumping fingers before she shudders, moaning in ecstasy as Asami does everything she can to help her ride out the orgasm.

One last euphoric sigh tumbles out between her lips and she all but collapses on top of Asami, who takes both of her hands back and gathers Korra’s boneless form against her as best she can.

Korra lets out a hard breath, nuzzling her face against Asami’s neck with a kind of post-coital affection Asami had never before realized could feel this good. Her lips are tender at Asami’s neck, mouthing more than kissing, but the feeling makes her body hum for Korra, as if every cell wants the woman above her with all their might.

Lips find Asami’s earlobe and a soft bite makes her gasp, but the words at her ear make her shiver, “Can we go to your bedroom?”

There’s so much heat and want behind those words, it almost leaves Asami breathless. So they stumble off the couch, giggling at their incoordination. Asami can’t be sure if it’s the alcohol or the orgasm or a combination thereof that’s made her so wobbly, but as Korra yanks her shirt and bra off, completely, gloriously naked in front of her—Asami’s not sure she cares.

She’s tugged her own clothes off by the time they’re on the bed together, and as soon as Asami plops down, Korra’s hands are _everywhere_. She’s thought about Korra like this, being laid bare beneath her, but when she feels very real lips, open and teasing against the skin of her stomach, the thoughts seem to bear little relevance to the reality.

When Korra’s hands find her breasts, teasing gently at her hardened nipples, Asami can’t mask the moan that’s carried up by a heavy beat of pleasure. Korra’s clever work against her breasts and the little nips against the sensitive skin of her stomach already have her seeing stars, and she knows where Korra’s headed, and exactly how badly she wants her there.

Korra doesn’t disappoint.

Her hands take Asami’s, pressing them to her breasts wordlessly, urging her to touch herself. And Asami knows how to touch herself, so she does, entertaining her desires as she watches Korra mouth at her hips, lips burning where they touch. She descends further, and a bite at her inner thigh coupled with a particularly nice twist of her nipples sends a whimper from her throat. Asami itches with intense, consuming desire, toes curling at the kisses Korra peppers against her thighs. She spreads them apart, and Asami watches as Korra takes her in— _really_ takes her in. It’s that reverent look, and the subsequent one she offers when she meets Asami’s eyes that have her writhing, begging for contact. 

With one hand, Asami feels as she spreads her open, and the fact that Korra’s mouth is _still_ not on her sets her to begging. “Korra, _please,”_ she gasps, tugging at her chest with one hand and reaching to Korra with the other. “ _Please._ ”

Korra’s eyes are sharp when she looks up at her, and in an instant, her mouth is against her.

Asami almost loses it, so sensitive from her last orgasm and the build up in between that Korra’s tongue, thick and talented against her clit makes her shout at the ceiling, gripping Korra’s hair in an effort to keep the heavy pleasure on her.

And Korra’s tongue is magic. She tests broad strokes that set a low pressure in the pit of Asami’s stomach, followed by pointed flicks that have her seeing stars. But it’s when Korra’s fingers slide under her chin, pressing inside, and her licks turn to sucks that Asami knows she’s almost there. With Korra’s mouth around her clit, tongue flicking along the tight seal of her lips, and her fingers, crooking upwards and pressing _right_ against that sweet spot, Asami is done for.

She looks down, body tight and trembling against the ministrations, and she meets Korra’s eyes where they watch her between her legs. And she wants to say something, maybe Korra’s name, maybe how good it feels, and how Korra’s going to make her come again, but instead her body responds to that look, sending her careening over the edge of her orgasm, gasping on a high whimper as she struggles for the breaths that fuel her pleasure so wonderfully.

It’s everywhere at once, overwhelming every nerve ending, every thought, and Asami can’t help the way her legs jerk, how hard she clutches at Korra’s scalp, or how desperate the noises are that she grits out, beyond a coherent thought. It’s when she’s sliding back down to herself that she has a little more control, and loosens her grip on Korra, who seems content to stay between her legs forever. Asami realizes that she wouldn’t mind that.

“ _Korra,_ ” she huffs, body humming with an intensely pleasant afterglow. “My _god,_ Korra.”

Korra hums contentedly from where she’s making a few more languid passes with her tongue, catching her over-sensitive clit with each one until Asami can’t take it anymore and has to try to tug her up.

“Please come here,” she sighs, trying to grab at Korra’s shoulders.

Instead of obliging immediately, Korra presses warm kisses against her thighs, her hips, her stomach and breasts, and is busy ravishing her neck when Asami tugs her away, wanting a good look at her new lover’s face.

Korra smiles down at her, so sincere and so soft. “Was that okay?” she asks, and Asami’s heart thuds hard against her chest at her tone. 

She traces Korra’s jaw with her fingers before responding. “I don’t have the words, Korra,” she says, honestly, caressing Korra’s face, brushing her thumbs over high cheekbones. “Thank you.”

Her smile widens. “You don’t have to thank me,” she says, leaning down for a soft kiss. “I enjoyed it, so much. I’ll do it whenever you ask me to, for as long as you want me to.”

“I can’t say no to that, can I?” she laughs, hands still against Korra’s jaw. She’s so warm and content here, with Korra above her, pressed against her, reveling in the afterglow of something more akin to _lovemaking_ than sex. She wants to tell Korra that. “I don’t think I ever would. But, Korra?”

Her eyebrows raise in question.

“Thank you for being with me. For coming over,” Asami traces her thumbs over Korra’s eyebrows, smoothing them over before continuing, “I didn’t expect this. I mean, I’ve… I’ve wanted it for a long time, but I hadn’t _expected_ it.”

“I’ve wanted it too,” Korra admits, and even through the post-coital bliss, Asami feels her heart lighten further. Korra settles more comfortably over her, leaning on her forearms and threading her hands through Asami’s hair. “You know,” she chuckles, looking bashful, “I think I love you.”

And everything just slides into place. Asami watches Korra for a long moment, long enough to make the other woman’s brow crease again, but Asami smooths it away, pulls Korra’s lips against hers.

“I love you,” she mumbles between kisses, meaning it with all her heart, letting the tears run freely. “I love you, Korra.”

Korra says the same, over and over again, and throughout the rest of the night, and when Asami wakes the next morning, notices Korra’s sleepy blue eyes watching her with so much care and love, she feels whole again.


	20. Ashes to Ashes (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From wr-trash: _"Could u write a fic about Korra being the amazing selfless person that she is and helping/healing everyone during the aftermath of Kuvira's fight and neglecting her own injuries, Asami being the only one who notices it."_

_Broken femur…_ _torn ligament… fractured tibia…_

Almost like a mantra, she could hear as the never-ending list of injuries passed behind her eyes. Eyes that drooped but wouldn’t shut, and a mind that had triggered the deliberate motions of waterbending for hours. She had to continue. There would be no rest while she could still stand or kneel at the rows of medical cots, and as she finished mending the broken hip of a middle-aged airbender she couldn’t remember the name of, it seemed that there would be no end to the wounded, too.

She moved to the next. He was a child, by all rights, and one who sported an arm bent at a painful angle. Korra tried all she could to draw empathy for what she’d have to do—to set the bone—but her reserves were empty. Instead, she offered a smile that was as devoid of energy as the rest of her body, and set herself back to work.

There were countless more. By the time the sun had set, she’d forgotten every one of her basic needs—sleepless, aimless, starved, and still moving between the rows of casualties. There was no room in her mind for anything except this bitter, all-consuming work. Where it had stemmed from—love, compassion, a desire to help—she couldn’t recall. She couldn’t even recall what had caused this. The destruction of the city she loved seemed so far away, even though it lay in ruin beyond Air Temple Island.

It took a long moment for her to register the hand on her shoulder.

“… _Korra._ ”

She turned, too quickly for her exhausted body, because the force of the movement almost swept her off of her feet. Another hand set on her other shoulder, stabilizing her. It took another slow moment to realize who the hands belonged to.

“Asami,” Korra said, and in the years she’d known the other woman, she’d never said her name with such little emotion. No thought triggered her next words, tumbling out like the most ungraceful of reflexes, “Are you hurt?”

Asami’s eyes softened, but in the haze of her mind, Korra couldn’t notice.

“I’m… all right,” she said, and if Korra had had the presence of mind, she might have noticed the waver in her voice before she cleared her throat, continuing, “how long have you been out here?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I’m not done.”

Asami studied her face, very unlike the way Korra had seen her studying the hummingbird mechs, in what seemed like a lifetime before. The gentle pressure of Asami’s hands on her shoulders kept her rooted to the spot, although the lingering restlessness of work tingled under her skin. She didn’t want to move, didn’t want to leave, but she didn’t know how to turn off that mantra in her head, all of the problems she needed to fix…

“You need to rest, Korra.”

“I can’t,” was the immediate response, although every fiber of her being agreed. “Not yet.”

The pressure left one of Korra’s shoulders, and Asami’s hand cupped her jaw with a gentleness that matched that of her eyes. She could feel her resolve waning at that look, that touch, and when Asami’s thumb traced a forming bruise on her cheek, all arguments slipped away.

“Come with me,” Asami urged, and then, as if it had been an afterthought, “please.”

She couldn’t have said no. Not then, not when Asami looked at her like that. Not when they’d almost lost each other. Not after everything.

So she followed her in a daze, through corridors she knew but couldn’t recognize. When her thoughts caught up to the rest of her, they’d found Korra’s room, their footfalls echoing against a familiar wooden floor. It was a respite she hadn’t realize she’d needed. In an instant, all of the tension she’d been carrying fell from her with a deep sigh, and with the tension came the tears. And Asami was right with her, sweeping her up in her arms, her own sobs buried into Korra’s neck.

They stood together like that, holding each other, weeping from an ache so deep, Korra felt as if she’d be torn apart if she let go of Asami. Asami, who’d been there for her through her worst days, Asami, who in the wake of a war she needed to be with, Asami, who’d—

Who’d just lost her father.

She threaded her fingers through Asami’s hair, pulling her even closer, and Asami responded, fisting the fabric of Korra’s shirt, shifting impossibly close.

“I’m so sorry, Asami,” she found herself saying, voice rough with emotion, “I’m so, so sorry.”

And even though she’d spent so long attending to the wounds she could see—the soldiers and the airbenders and the like, there she felt the wound that had been freshly re-opened, and for a long moment she was helpless. There was no bending that could heal that. But then, as their tears subsided, she heard Asami murmuring against her, soft “thank you”s that made Korra’s heart swell and break simultaneously.

Asami pulled back, still keeping close. Her eyes were rimmed with red, her smile weak and watery, and Korra had never seen anything more breathtaking.

“I guess I lied.”

“About?”

“Being all right.”

Korra chuckled, tucking a piece of hair behind Asami’s ear. “I guess you did. Funny enough, I’m not all right either.”

Asami smile widened. “You really do need to rest.”

“So do you,” Korra rebuked. She jutted her head at that hard stone bed beside them. “There’s a bed right there.”

“Big enough for both of us?”

And if she hadn’t been sleep-deprived and bone-tired, Korra might have balked at the suggestion. Instead, she tugged Asami over, and sat at her side as they kicked their shoes off, and Asami pulled off her jacket, uncovering bruises and scrapes neither had noticed.

Korra immediately moved to heal them, but Asami stopped her hands. “Later. These are nothing.”

At Asami’s insistence, Korra conceded, shifting so she could lay down with enough room for them both. Asami had other plans however, curling into her side and wrapping an arm around her torso. There was no room for modesty or embarrassment now, not after they’d wept against each other as they had. So Korra pulled her closer, pressing a delicate kiss to her forehead.

“You missed,” Asami mumbled, sleepy and lethargic, but Korra had heard.

“I missed?” she asked, but she’d understood. She’d understood too well.

Asami nodded against her chest. “Try again,” she hummed.

Maybe it was the delirium or the years of waiting, but as easily as she’d lain down, Korra set her fingers against Asami’s jaw, tilting her head up. Their eyes met for only a moment and Korra leaned down, pressing their lips together.

The dam that had broken before, the one that had held their grief, dissolved into nothing, and Asami leaned into the kiss, her lips warm and real and _alive_. They were both alive and Asami had asked Korra to kiss her, and they _were_ —

“I’m so glad you’re okay,” Asami all but sighed against her lips, her voice thick and wavering.

“We’re both okay,” Korra responded urgently, “we’re both going to _be_ okay.”

She leaned back in then, pouring everything she had left into the kiss. She was so, _so_ tired, and she knew that Asami was too, but Korra needed the kiss. She needed to know that there were no more walls between them. No more miles or years. They were together and they were alive, and whatever else happened, whatever work there was to be done—they’d have each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I guess it became a little more about Asami, but oh well. I'm a little rusty, but I have a bunch of old prompts I'd like to get around to, so I hope y'all enjoyed!


	21. Love You Bring (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From anonymous: _"Asami and Korra go dancing. Either in one of Republic City’s nightclubs, at a gala, or...just by themselves, a quiet evening at home."_

It had taken her years to get there.

Asami knew that. She knew it well. She’d been there through it all—watched the long looks in their floor-length mirror. The worried sweep of blue eyes over bluer fabric. She’d been there even before, when a little rouge sat somewhere between discomfort and confusion.

All she could do was repeat the same words she did every morning, every night.

 _“You’re beautiful.”_  

When they were younger, she knew that Korra hadn’t believed her. She’d toss Asami an uneasy smile and repeat the sentiment with much more conviction than she’d received it with. She’d give Asami these looks that made her weak in the knees—full of love and reverence. When they were younger, she worried that her own looks didn’t have the same effect. 

“Can you zip me up, love?”

She rose from the vanity, over to where her wife stood at the mirror—a vision in blue and white. After all their years together, Asami didn’t doubt the effect of her looks any longer. She drew the zipper at the small of Korra’s back up slowly, resting her hands on her hips once she’d finished and setting her chin on Korra’s broad shoulder.

“Have I ever told you look incredible in blue?”

Korra chuckled. “When have you ever seen me wear anything else?”

“Case and point.”

Korra’s features softened, and she smiled at Asami through the mirror. After a long beat, her eyes moved over her own form. No discomfort anymore, no unease. It made Asami’s heart swell to see Korra so comfortable with herself. After all of the time she’d spent afraid to look in the mirror, she deserved to be confident and whole.

“You know it too,” Asami said.

The corner of Korra’s mouth turned up. “I know that we’re the best-looking couple this side of Ba Sing Se,” she said, tugging Asami’s arms around her waist. “And I also know that we’re going to publicly humiliate all of your employees with how good we look.”

“Oh, I’m sure they’ll love that,” she hummed, pressing a kiss to the cut of Korra’s jaw. “Good for morale.”

Korra tilted her head for easier access, her fingers wrapping tighter around Asami’s wrists. Instead of continuing, however, Asami pulled away. It earned her a whine of disappointment, but she smirked in response.

“We’re going to be late to publicly humiliate my employees, aren’t we?”

Korra spun around, her trademarked pout in full force. “You’re the boss, Asami, you can be as late as you _want_.”

Asami smirked, grabbing her purse from the vanity. “What if I don’t _want_ to be late?”

Korra gaped, over-exaggerated, and with a hard tilt of her head. “You’re telling me you’d rather hang out with a bunch of business people than stay home and have sex with your _wife?_ ”

Asami paused by the door to their bedroom, forcing away the smile that threatened at her lips. “Oh, were we going to have sex?”

“Well we _could_ if we didn’t have to leave the house.”

“You know the house isn’t going anywhere, right? We can come back later,” Asami said, watching as Korra similarly struggled to keep from grinning. “And have sex.”

“All right,” Korra said, as if it would have taken more than that for her to concede, “I’ll take it. Let’s go humiliate your employees.”

 

* * *

 

After her father had passed, Asami wasn’t sure why she kept throwing the gala.

It was always something of a reminder, and one she wasn’t particularly keen on reliving. But her employees loved it, and unlike her father, Asami cared more about the people she staffed than the money their labor brought in.

Her CFO, a wiry man with a combover and a heart of gold, made the thanks and announcements to the hall. At her side, Korra took her hand, interlacing their fingers on the table.

She leaned over into Asami’s space, murmuring into her ear, “I love you."

She’d never tire of hearing that. “I love you too.”

Korra pressed a lingering kiss to her cheek, another thing she’d never tire of.

After, when the night had picked up steam, and she’d made the rounds—toting Korra around the hall to thank executives and engineers and the like—they made their way to the dance floor. Every year without fail, her and Korra had taken the floor first. By the third year, Asami had decided that it had become an unwritten rule. Everyone steered clear until they drifted on, swaying gently to the soft music.

She wound her arms around Korra’s shoulders, smiling as Korra wrapped strong arms around Asami’s waist.

“Have I ever told you how beautiful you are?” she asked, all but lost in Korra’s eyes.

“Hmm,” Korra hummed, a teasing smirk at the corner of her mouth, “I’m not sure. You should say it again. You know, just in case.”

She swatted at Korra’s shoulder. “You’re an imp, you know that?”

“Yeah, a beautiful imp,” she said, grinning. “With an even more beautiful wife.”

Although her voice still had that teasing lilt, Asami couldn’t help but lean down to kiss her. Immediately, she regretted not taking that opportunity Korra had joked about beforehand. 

“Mrs. Sato,” Korra chided with a horrible Upper Ring accent, still close enough to feel the tickle of her lips, “in front of all of your employees? What will they _think_ of us?”

“They’ll _think_ that they’d better keep quiet. I’m still the one that decides if they get paid or not.”

“Oh!” Korra huffed, over-exaggerated, “Such scandal, Mrs. Sato! Such disrespect! Here I thought you were a lady.” Keeping the entertainment up, Korra dipped them unexpectedly, almost hitting one of her head engineers and his wife. She grimaced as she righted them. “Sh—sorry!”

The man didn’t have a sense of humor. Most of her engineers didn’t. 

They shuffled away, leaving Korra and Asami in the middle of the dance floor. Asami smirked down at her wife, still looking sheepish. “Tsk, tsk, Mrs. Sato. Here I thought _you_ were a lady.”

“Well you’d be _very_ wrong, Mrs. Sato.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Asami hummed, “you look like a lady.”

“A beautiful lady?”

“I would even go so far as to call you a _gorgeous_ lady.”

Korra gasped with mock surprise, spinning them with more care than before. This time, there were no near misses. “A gorgeous lady with a gorgeous wife.”

“It’s one of those nights, isn’t it?” Asami laughed.

“My love, I will _always_ try to one-up you in the ‘who looks better’ department. It’s obviously you.” When Asami opened her mouth to protest, Korra continued, “ _but_ I’m a pretty close second.” Asami rolled her eyes. “You’re going to have to live with that one.”

“We’ll see.” Korra smiled at her then. One of those bright ones that lit up her eyes, too. One of the ones that made her heart stutter and her knees weak. “We’ll _definitely_ see.”


	22. Quiet Hours (T)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From eloquentdrivil: _"Asami has to stay in (finals, or conference call, or something), while the rest of the Krew goes out to the bar. Korra gets drunk, and Asami gets a pic of Korra's bare torso; just the barest edge of her breasts down to the 'V' of muscle disappearing into her pants. Cue, Asami devolving into utter sexual turmoil."_

Asami had never procrastinated before.

This was more of a forced procrastination. More like she’d spent forty of the last forty-eight hours in the school’s library working on final projects she hadn’t had the _time_ for during the semester, and was now working on the _other_ projects that had to take a backseat to the backseat for her other _other_ projects.

She’d decided, somewhere between hour fourteen and twenty-six, that there was no saving her.

They opened the library all hours of the day and night during finals, and Asami was taking advantage of that fact, because it was a lovely, brisk Saturday night. Lovely enough and brisk enough for a night out on the town. Which is what her girlfriend and friends were doing.

Korra had begged her every way she knew how to take a break, but Asami knew that if she avoided work for anything over an hour, she wouldn’t finish in time.

So she texted Korra: _“Go have fun! I’ll be fine here. Be safe, I love you!”_

She was not “ _fine here_.” She felt like death warmed over. The equations swam in her vision. In her stupor, she couldn’t understand why she’d decided on quantum physics as the subject matter for her capstone project. She was not a physicist. It was only the tenth time she’d thought about hitting her head against the wall when her phone buzzed in her pocket.

 _No_. She told herself, trying to stop the hand that reached into her pocket. _No, no, no, stop it, don’t you open that lock screen—shit._

And she was already distracted, so instead of putting the phone away again, she leant back in her chair. She’d be fighting a losing battle, anyway.

It was Korra, of course: _“hey cutieee hows the math going?”_

Her projects seemed further away already. _“Boring. How’s the club?”_  

The response was instant, _“not bad… would be better with u tho”_

The little kissy face that came after made Asami want to set her papers on fire and make a beeline for her car.

 _“Sorry love,_ ” she typed, angrily tapping the keyboard of her phone, _“I’ll make it up to you next weekend!”_

_“oh yea? how?? ;D”_

_Oh, no._ As much as she might have wanted to continue down this particular avenue of conversation, she could almost hear her term papers screaming for her attention. So, with a heavy heart, she deflected.

_“Noodle date!”_

But Korra was more than ready with a response, _“and after thaaat?”_

She was running out of options. _“Ice cream date.”_

_“ice cream is good, but u know whats better??”_

_Don’t,_ her left brain commanded, _Asami Sato, you have ten hours of work left you can’t be entertaining this—_

_“What?”_

The moment she hit send, she knew it was over. She’d lost the fight with rationality. She could see Korra now, grinning at her phone in the middle of a crowded bar, ready to ruin Asami’s chances of finishing a single one of her finals on time. In theory, it sounded like a bad situation. In practice, Asami found that she couldn’t have cared less. So when a picture came through instead of a text, and one of a dark, bare and muscled midriff with unbuttoned jeans slung low on hips she knew all too well—

“ _Oh_ , you little _—_ ”

Asami knew that _Korra_ knew that she’d won. She knew that there was no going back to her projects or her finals or any of the mountains of work she had due. She texted back, one last futile attempt to get a hold on her sanity, but her fingers betrayed all logic and reason, “ _I wish you were here_.”

“Really,” she muttered at herself, sending the message with a huff, “how desperate _are_ you?”

The answer: _very_. With how inundated she’d been in previous weeks, she’d barely had time to _see_ Korra, let alone _do_ anything with her. A pang of longing struck her harder than any of her stress or exhaustion. All she wanted was to cuddle with her girlfriend, maybe with some snacks and a movie—

“ _u know what i’d do for u if i was there_ _;))_ ”

—and maybe some other things.

It was then that she felt the full force of her weariness. Then, with the promise of relief and the image of Korra’s bare skin just a scroll away, she knew that getting a handle on her projects would _have_ to wait. She’d been under dangerous amounts of stress before, but she’d never had _Korra_ in those times. She’d never had the option to… _relax_ in the midst of a overwhelming workload. 

But Korra was out, on the other side of town, and buzzed at the very least. There was no way she’d have her tonight.

“Besides,” she growled at herself, shaking off the rather welcome images that swam in her mind’s eye, “you have too much to do.”

She turned back to her work, not responding to Korra’s text. For a long few minutes, she thought she’d adequately diverted her own attention. She set aside a finished abstract, beginning work on her next, when her phone buzzed again.

“Don’t,” she chided herself, “don’t you dare. Asami, you are better than this.”

It buzzed a second time, and there wasn’t a single second between the vibration of her phone and the move she made to grab it. She was not, as it happened, “better than this.”

It was another image, and never in a million years did Asami think she’d be turned on in the university’s library.

Korra had a bathroom to herself, it seemed. That, or she was drunk enough to ruck her shirt up above her bra in a public bathroom. The image was dark, but Asami had no trouble making out the definition of Korra’s stomach, the blue push-up bra she’d opted on, or the way she’d taken the hem of her tank between her teeth, mouth turned up in a wolfish grin. The arm that wasn’t taking the picture was out to her side, flexing the heavily defined muscle there.

“ _where’d u goooo??”_

Asami knew that Korra could make her weak in the knees in person, but this was too much. Not only was Korra’s incredible body on full display, but she was miles away, and the desperation Asami felt descending over every fiber of her being couldn’t be solved with a few steps.

“ _Still here,_ ” she responded, and then in another lapse of her better judgement, “ _alone…_ ”

Korra’s response was instant, _“oh really?_ ”

She knew exactly what Korra was getting at, and was a little ashamed to realize that the thought had excited her more than it should have.

“ _Korra, I’m not touching myself in a public library._ ”

“ _well i’m touching myself in a public bathroom soooo_ ”

Asami inhaled, trying to suppress the sudden stab of want. She took one last look at her paperwork.

“ _You are?_ ”

“ _yeeeeeaaaa ;)_ ” Korra replied, “ _thinking about u_ ”

Asami sighed. Half in frustration and half with arousal. Just the thought of Korra had her shifting in her seat, her clothes clinging to her in a few very uncomfortable places. She knew that anything she asked, or going any further on this line of conversation would have her copying Korra, and as badly as she wanted some kind of relief, she didn’t want it alone in the _library_ of all places.

“ _You’re not helping._ ”

“ _i could tho_ ”

“ _You’re too far away to help._ ”

“No, I’m not.”

Asami jumped at the voice, so caught up in texting that she hadn’t noticed the presence behind her. When she swiveled around, it was the most welcome sight she could have fathomed: Korra, smiling and real and three feet away.

“Korra! I thought… I thought you guys went downtown,” she stuttered, bewildered but relieved beyond belief.

Korra’s smile widened, and she stepped forward as Asami rose to greet her. “We went to that new place across the street. I wanted to be close by in case you needed me.” Her smile turned mischievous. “And you _do_ need me.”

Asami scoffed, ready to retort, but she was also confused as to why she hadn’t closed the distance between them. She fixed that, however, rounding the chair and stepping into Korra’s outstretched arms. She buried her head in Korra’s neck, breathing in that comforting scent that relaxed her from head to toe. “I don’t _need_ you,” she teased gently, already melting into Korra’s embrace. “I was doing fine here.”

“ _Fine?_ ” Korra hummed, pressing a kiss to Asami’s temple. She ran her hands over Asami’s back. “I wouldn’t call the tension I can feel in your back ‘fine’.”

She could hear Korra, but she wasn’t exactly listening. Rather, the warmth of her body and the soothing hands on her back and gentle lips at her temple reminded her of what had been happening _before_ Korra had materialized. She pressed a kiss to Korra’s neck. “Were you really touching yourself in a public bathroom?”

Korra laughed, a wonderful sound Asami could feel hum against her lips. “No. I figured I’d wait until I saw you.”

“What makes you so sure you’re going to get that opportunity?” she murmured between open-mouthed kisses at Korra’s neck.

The waver in Korra’s voice when she responded made the cloying need in the pit of her stomach all the more apparent. “Just a hunch, I guess,” Korra all but sighed, and Asami could feel the hitch in her hands’ patterns over her back. A long moment passed—soft caresses and kisses before Korra spoke again with a voice raw and gentle, “I’ve missed you.”

Asami stopped the kisses at Korra’s neck, pulling back so she could take in her whole face. She wasn’t emotional, just open and loving, and at that look, the heat Asami had felt at every nerve ending turned to something much softer.

She pressed an equally soft kiss to Korra’s lips, pulling back a fraction of an inch to respond, “I’ve missed you too. I’m glad you came,” she said, and then gestured frustratedly at her piles of paperwork, “I’m sorry I’ve been so caught up in all this.”

“No reason to apologize. It’s just what comes with having a genius for a girlfriend,” Korra said with a grin. Asami couldn’t help it, she kissed her again. “ _But_ I think you could use a break. And I’m not saying that to be selfish. I know you’re not sleeping much.”

“You’re right,” Asami conceded. Then, with a smirk, “but I think we’ve made it clear that we’ve missed each other, and I’m thinking that I’ll postpone sleep for a _little_ longer. And I _am_ saying that to be selfish.”

 

* * *

 

And after Asami woke the next morning—refreshed, relaxed, and curled up with Korra—she knocked out every last project and paper that had threatened her sanity.

So maybe procrastination wasn’t _all_ bad... and maybe she’d have to try it again. Soon.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy new year!


End file.
